Not many years before we lost Jeremy, we almost lost our 14-year-old daughter. We helplessly watched as she slowly and painfully tried to take her own life. The diagnosis was anorexia, but we knew the real enemy was he who comes to steal, kill and destroy. He was whispering heinous lies in her ear and convincing her to believe them. Things like, “You’re taking up too much space” and “You’re weak and disgusting” and “You don’t deserve to live.” It didn’t matter what we, or anyone else said; she could only hear him. We took her to the doctor, who only made it worse by scolding and shaming her. I read every book I could find, but nothing I did seemed to help. Then one day, her organs started shutting down.
How does this happen to a Jesus-loving girl in a Jesus-loving family? I don’t know. But it happens a lot more often than you’d think. It happened to us, and we were terrified. I feared I was going to have to bury another child. Jeremy, who has helped countless other people’s children, was at a complete loss as to how to help his own.
She wouldn’t fight for herself, so we fought for her. We fought so hard! We fought hospital systems and doctors and insurance companies and our own fears. Often, we even had to fight her. For two excruciating weeks, I sat by her hospital bed, begging God to spare her life. For two agonizing months, I handed her over to inpatient treatment, letting go of my last little illusion of control. For six long months we rearranged our family schedules to take her to and from a partial-inpatient facility, where we were all trained and re-trained in how to best care for her. For a year, our household became an eating disorder facility, of sorts. No TV. No magazines. No social media. No diet or exercise culture. No scales or tape measures or full length mirrors or laxatives. We were ruled by portions and schedules and hard conversations that usually ended in tears.
At the end of all of that, the doctor, dietician and therapist looked at us and told us she had a 90% chance of relapse. 90%!
But God.
What He knew that her team didn’t know was the miraculous transformation that had taken place inside her mind. A renewing that could only be explained by the resurrection power of the Holy Spirit. She didn’t recover in her own strength, she was healed!
Was I terrified that she would relapse when her daddy died? You bet I was! I made a beeline for the pond, dropped to my knees before God, and begged Him to save her.
And He answered, “Fear not; she’s Mine.”
Only God.
I have watched in awe as my Heavenly Father has carried my three girls in His hands these past three plus years. I could write a book of stories! No earthly father could have met their deepest needs and the longings of their hearts the way He has.
Not even Jeremy.
Last week, my beautiful girl got her first apartment. She’s on the Dean’s list…again. She writes beautiful music and leads worship at her church. She’s healthy and thriving and has a glorious hope and a God-ordained future.
I’ll never forget the day she looked across the table at me and said, “I knew God was my Heavenly Father, but I never knew just how good of a father He was until He was my only father.”
And that, my friends, is the treasure that can be found in the valley of suffering.
“My ears had heard of You, but now my eyes have seen You.” Job 42:5
This is a real and deadly epidemic amongst our young people but can also affect women of any age. If you, or someone you know is struggling, please seek help!
You matter!
You are beautiful!
You are so loved!!!
