Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
Hebrews 11:1 NIV
Faith. Whenever I hear that word, a lot comes into mind of something worth believing. To many, faith is just a word that holds no meaning, an option, or something incomprehensible. Now what does it mean to me? Growing up in the church setting, I never knew what it meant to have a firm belief. I always felt like I was tagging along my parents into this building where there were many people following the same routine and ritual. To my knowledge, I had no idea as to why I even had to go to such a location. At the age of 5 or so, all I can remember about going to church was seeing people lay their hands over my mom while she cried and lifted her hands as if she needed someone to help her. I never understood how in tune someone can be with something supernatural and spiritual.
God. Is there such a thing? Is he the Big Man in the Sky I have always heard people around me say? Who is He?
I grew up knowing there’s someone out there who protects and helps people in need once you call upon Him. My mom would always have this habit of coming into my room at night to say a goodnight prayer to someone I didn’t even know. As always, I would close my eyes and repeat her “Amen” at the end of each prayer, not knowing what it meant.
Fast forward 10 years later, those “Amens” at the end of every prayer was a signal to God of all my desperate calls.
When I was 15 years old, I was hit with one of my hardest trials ever. Everyday after school, I would come home to same problem over and over again. It felt like a never-ending loop I was in and every time I would try to leap out of that loop, I would be sucked right back in to where I left off, heading in the same direction. Now what was my problem you may ask?
My problem was hearing and seeing my parents constantly arguing about situations that would lead to further divorce. The word divorce was being thrown around within every 5 min intervals, as if it wasn’t said enough. There would be multiple times where I would pitch in to stop the arguments, trying to shut my parents up from talking too much just so I can be heard. I was in anguish just seeing them two verbally attacking each other as if that was what they were meant to do.
My parents have been together for 18 years at that time, going into their 19th year together, yet I wasn’t sure I’d see that happening. The future was so unclear, hazy as a matter of fact.
Growing up, my mom and dad were loving towards each other based on what I saw. We’d go to the mall together, watch movies, go to church, and even hold bible studies in my home. It was because of my dad that I grew this love of wanting to know more about the stories in the Bible, digging deeper in the Word and finding hidden truths. Because of him, I would know the stories of who the people in the Bible were—from Elijah, to David and Goliath, to Ruth and Esther, and of course, Jesus himself. My dad was the one who taught me so much about what this book held inside. Not just for the famous stories of the people themselves, but even to the origins of why things were and to things that would soon come in the near future. To my extent, it was what motivated me to carry my little Precious Moments Bible that was given to me on my 10th birthday around church every Sunday.
As for my mom, she was the one who taught me the importance of prayer and how God was always there listening to what I had to say, even if it was for something foolish like me telling God about the little mishaps throughout my days.
I grew up with this notion that yes, there is someone out there who is listening to me and willing to be there for me JUST BECAUSE. But did I truly believe it? Perhaps not. I just was following what my parents had set out for me in this walk of life. This routine.
Now what made everything change?
From what I know, there are things that should be left unsaid and things that are not meant to be mentioned, but it killed me to see the aftermath of the effect of what was happening.
”Mom…Dad… please stop.”
That was all I would say to my parents in the middle of their arguments. I never wanted to see them continue, yet I was getting used to seeing this toxic habit. Waking up everyday was a drag for me. As a fifteen year old, in my freshman year of high school, I didn’t think I’d be stuck in a toxic environment at home. The way I felt I was treated was unfair to me only because I knew it was the only way to cope with the emotions everyone in my family was dealing with.
I would go to school knowing that I had to face people and teachers everyday and act as if everything was okay for me. I had on the biggest facade that nobody was aware of. I pretended I was always happy and enjoying life, yet on the inside all I wanted to do was run away and scream. I just wanted someone to listen to my hurt, feel my pain, and dig deep in my thoughts.
No one knew I cried myself to sleep everyday. No one knew I would wake up in the middle of the night feeling tears roll down my cheeks because I would have dreams of my parents separated. I would bite my tongue every time I saw my mother cry on her bed with her head dug in her hands. I would get angry when I would see my father sit down on the couch watching TV, only because I knew the backstory to everything.
Why the hell was this happening to me? Why all of a sudden I’m feeling angry one minute and then depressed the next. There was so much in me I wanted to let out. So much I wanted to say and do, all because I was growing tired of it all.
This kept going for the next 3 years up until my senior year of high school. Extensive right?
Senior year of high school rolls in, woohoo! Go Cougars! *rolls eyes*
A part of me was happy it was my last year of high school, a part of me was not so happy. I was excited because I would graduate and head off to college, and I wasn’t too excited as well because my problem at home hasn’t stopped. Again, it was the same thing over and over again. It felt eternal. Yet it didn’t affect my schooling as I thought it would, in fact, it motivated me to do well in order for me to get out as fast as I can. That was the goal I had set out for myself. To leave and escape this misery.
Everything went well up until it was time for me to make a decision on which university/college I would go to. My goal was to attend FSU all along. I wanted to leave my home and go to the furthest college there is in Florida and stay there for the next 4 years. I would find my “peace” and “serenity” there— away from it all. Yet, my parents refused to let me go. Deep down they knew my reason to leave, and wouldn’t let me go because of my desire to escape.
“God, if you’re really listening to me, let me go to FSU. I don’t want to stay here anymore.”
That was my prayer every night. I desperately wanted to leave, yet there was always a tug at my heart saying, “Emily, no.”
I have always known that God does things for a reason, but what reason is for all of this chaos at home? Do I really want to believe in Him despite the mess of emotions inside of me? I needed comfort. I needed a place to rest and be still, yet I couldn’t find it.
One day, while walking around my area, I stumbled upon this field that I thought was the most precious thing there was to this haze. Its long grass was inviting and so willowy, I just wanted to stay there forever and dwell in its idyllic state.
Finally.
And there, as I sat down with my eyes looking straight ahead, I felt as if there was no end to my crying. I couldn’t stop. I felt as if there was this huge rain cloud pouring all of its water over me. I have never felt so alone. So broken.
All that was playing in my head were the happy memories of my family loving each other, laughing, and enjoying one another all being torn in front of me as if I would never see that again. That it was only a phase of life I would only enjoy and cherish as memories that once were and never will become again.
It was in that moment that I prayed and said, “I feel so done. I can’t take it anymore….why.”
And that was when I heard Him say, “I’m still listening.”
In my moments of brokenness, I felt the need to document how I felt at the moment. I would turn to photography and capture the state of how I felt my emotions were in. Every concept depicted in my photos represented my internal longing of feeling whole again and wanting to escape. In reality, photography was my escape.
People would always tell me they loved my photos because of its composition and story, but little did they know it was my cry for help. It was what kept me clinging onto to this faith of mine, believing that one day this too shall pass.
So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy.
John 16:22 NIV
This was the verse that helped me realize I was following this kind of faith for a reason. A bible verse so simple was what led me to stop wallowing in my own self-pity and depression and gave me the hope I knew would come for. I stumbled upon this verse at a time my mind was going into its darkest point. Day by day, I was going into a deep depression that I wanted to give up on everything. And to my most desperate acts, I wanted to read at least ONE verse that would speak to me, hoping for a change. It was when I read this that broke me into pieces. When I felt my God hugging me tightly and wiping away my tears. The moment when I knew I had to stop pretending he wasn’t there and know that He was there all along. I came to my senses and decided something’s got to change in me in order to see a miracle happen. I took a picture of myself crying one last time over this problem and told myself, “My hope is coming. This is my promise.”
Since then, despite the same arguments happening everyday over the same problem, I didn’t find myself crying anymore. I went into praying and working on my mental health by exercising and exploring with my friends, trying to find the beauty in what’s still out there for me to see. My perspective on life changed and I held on to this promise as if it was meant only for me.
(Still till this day, I have that picture saved onto my laptop, reminding me of where I was at one point in my life into what I am now.)
I ended up going to FIU and not FSU for my college experience. It wasn’t fair for me to be far away only to know things might end up being worse at home if I were to leave.
My first year of college was probably my best year. I met a lot of new cool people, loved my classes, and was ready for a big change. I joined a christian club on campus and loved being around people who shared the same faith as I. About 2 months in of me going to school, I woke up one day to see a large manila folder on my dining table and my dad crying. Crying? I have never seen my dad cry before.
I didn’t know what was happening as for the past 2 months, things have been awfully quiet at home. No fights, no screaming, just silence. So of course, I thought things were going well for all of us here.
When I opened the folder, I read the heading of the papers with the words DIVORCE printed on top. I didn’t react. I just froze. I looked back and pretended I didn’t see it.
My dad came up to me and said, “I’m sorry. I tried. Don’t expect me to be here when you come back from school. I might be gone.”
When my dad told me those words, I couldn’t help but cry. I just hugged him and got ready to leave for the day. I couldn’t drive to school. I was shaking at the thought of the house looking empty without the belongings of my father. I called my mom asking what happened and all she said was, “Emily, it’s for the sake of this family. I don’t want to see you suffer anymore and I don’t want to either.”
I knew I couldn’t be selfish anymore and try to stop things only because it would make me feel better. I was realizing I wanted things to be differently because of how I felt and not because of how my family was feeling. I had to stop being selfish and muster up the fact that these people have feelings too and that maybe this would benefit all of us.
That school day felt like the longest day ever. Even though I was paying attention in class, half of my mind was thinking about the moment I arrived back home seeing things gone. My dad’s clothes gone, his TV unplugged, his picture frame removed, everything. I had to hold back my tears and finish my work. It was until then I texted my friends from the christian club and told them what was happening. They responded with “Let’s pray about it in faith”, and I agreed to do so.
We met up after class near the fountain by the bridge on campus, prayed about our situations, and began declaring in faith that God will move. In that moment, I wasn’t thinking about my dad gone, my mind was set to seeing my parents happy again. All I did while we walked around campus was sing worship songs and kept the same mindset that God WILL move.
When it was time for us to go, I thanked my friends for being there for me, let out a big sigh, and ran off to go back home. When I arrived, I saw my parents sitting down on the couch laughing and holding hands.
I have never seen this before.
It felt like a dream.
But it was real.
”Emily, put your bags down, we’re leaving to go see some people and pray about what has been happening. We need to leave now.”
And so I did as my parents had asked and off we went to see these people that have been praying for us all along. As a family, we all have felt reconciled and restored. We let everything out that has been built up inside for the longest of time, forgave each other, gave each other hugs, and cried knowing it was God who made this happen.
In that moment, I felt as if God was talking to me again, this time loudly yet gentle saying, “I was with you all along. When you would cry yourself to sleep, I was there. I counted every single one of your tears, and held them in my hands. You were never alone. You said you were, but you weren’t. I was hoping you’d cling onto me earlier, but in my time you clung on perfectly. While you were hanging, know that I had set a foundation for you to land on. Without harm, you’d be safe. I did this for you to believe in me more than what you were exposed to. Now do you see the purpose?”
I still remember those words. I still remember that day, those feelings, that brokenness. And am I thankful I went through that? Of course I am. Even until this day, as I’m typing all of this down, I’m looking at my parents together in the kitchen talking and laughing together. It’s been 8 years already, And it has been such an adventure looking back on all of this. This is my first official post on this blog—my testimony, the reason as to why I will never let go of God’s hands despite everything else thrown at me.
I have gone through a lot more after those long 5 years of suffering in silence, but this time my mindset is different. I believe in what I believe in because I was once broken, and now I am redeemed. I was once alone and hopeless, and now I am loved and hopeful. You see, the Emily you may know of was never always this person who was always happy and enjoying life. I went through deep experiences, that have made me who I am, and now I am sharing it with all of you.
I am thankful for how far my journey has been so far, and I am excited to see where my next adventure will be. Until then, I will keep sharing, in hopes that maybe you will realize He’s got it all planned out. Faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see.
xoxo,
Emily.