Catastrophe!
I am an overcomer
Catastrophe is a good word. I like it. The more I say it to myself the more I really like the way it sounds, the way it rolls off the tongue. I also like the word hyperbole, and just to show that I know what both of them mean, I'm going to put them both in a sentence for you...
Saying that what happened to me this morning was a catastrophe would be a bit of a hyperbole.
It was quite dramatic though, with me as the central actress in my own little crisis! I was feeling ok, I was coping fine, although the thought of all the work I have to do before tomorrow, and the fact that my parents are coming later was weighing heavy on my mind and the stress was underlying...
I was washing up so that I could cook some food (which incidentaly I burned while I was writing this) because I haven't eaten properly all week. Everything was fine, I was in control, I wasn't even talking to myself (something I do when I'm stressed in my little flat all alone) and then I pushed my hand against a glass to get inside it with the sponge, and the glass gave way and a piece of it dug right into the top of my index finger.
Needless to say I panicked. I am not that bad with blood really, not my own at any rate, but when there is a lot of it, and it won't stop, and the cut is so deep you're having to pinch the skin together it bothers me. The other thing is that I hate glass, and I was petrified (still am a bit) that I'd got some stuck in my finger.
The main problem was that I didn't know what to DO. I felt like calling my mum but she's on the plane on the way here, and besides I would get blood all over my handset. I ran it under the tap, still squeezing the wound together, and tried to find a plaster, and was hysterical because I couldn't get a plaster and put it on without using my other hand that I was using to squeeze the hole together. So I had to let it go, and blood just went everywhere. The plasters I have are nowhere near big enough and so I had to use two, but I eventually succeeded in getting the wound covered.
Picture the scene, it's almost comical: through all this drama I was absolutely bawling, the pent up worry/stress/fear/anger/self loathing coming out all in one big ugggghhhhness. It felt good to cry, it was cleansing. It was hysterical sobbing, I just totally let go of everything I'd been bottling up or only letting out in small bouts.
Then I was talking. Shouting. I started shouting "Where are you God?" because he was the only one there. I started absolutely panicking about stupid things about living alone.. what if something happened that was life threatening, because I'm so useless at looking after myself, because I can't COPE on my own, because I'm just a waste of space, I would probably be found dead weeks later...
I started shouting myself down, ripping shreds out of my non-existent self esteem, attacking at the very core of my being, the most vulnerable places, the biggest doubts. It went something like: "Liz, look at you, you're pathetic!! You're bawling your eyes out over a tiny little cut!! You're completely falling apart, you're a mess, you can't cope, you just can't cope, you're utterly useless. When your parents were your age they had a little baby and they were living in a foreign country much further away than Spain, where they knew absolutely nobody whatsover. You just can't survive unless you've got someone to look after you can you??! You are so neeeeedy, you can't look after yourself, you're useless, pointless, a complete waste of space!"
I went on like this for quite a while, bawling all the time I was saying these things to myself (almost skitzo, scary), but then something happened. The TRUTH that I say to others who go through similar things, the tiny truth grains that people say back at me, the prayer to God earlier asking him where he was, and all the things I KNOW suddenly started to bring peace and balm and clear-thinking. And I realised something. In the midst of my shouting I realised those weren't my words. I was not saying those things. Lucifer was.
I was furious.
I gave him a tongue lashing I hope he won't forget in a hurry. Through gritted teeth I half-sobbed, half shouted these words: "In the name of the Jesus who saved me, GET THEE BEHIND ME, you VILE SNAKE!!! Get thee out of my flat, out of my life, out of my head, get thee OUT. I am NOT useless, I am NOT pointless, I am a child of God, and he is fighting FOR me, and what's more, he's WON!! You're just jealous because you KNOW what's coming to you. You are defeated. And you've failed here. Get thee GONE, this instant!"
Then peace that I cannot describe just flooded me. The tears didn't stop but these were joyful tears, relief tears, praise tears. God is so good. I love him so so so much.
So it may not have been a crisis/catastrophe in the physical world, to an outsider this probably reads as pretty pathetic, but Satan (or maybe one of his demons) was in my flat this morning, but he's out of it now. The Daily Wisdom for today was all about your home being where God is... It's somethiing I've been thinking a lot about my flat lately... everytime I come in from school, I put the key in the lock, I open the door, and peace floods me. This place is like a sanctuary. And God is here. I can feel him all around me. He's in the very walls, his angels are posted by all the windows and doors. He's got me. This flat is annointed by his grace. And so am I. So I will fear no evil, because he is with me, and his strong right arm is swift to save me.