“I am so sorry but we decided to go another way…” is what the email read.

I had to take my daughter across town and I didn’t want her to see my cry. But that girl reads me so well.

“Mom, what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t get that job,” I replied.

“Oh mom, I am so sorry.”

She is quiet as we drive, empathizing and wondering all at the same time. We drive in silence through traffic as tears escape from my eyes despite my willingness for them to dry up. I drive and internally fight against rejection, battle for truth, and anger against God.

Then she wonders aloud, “It seems like things just aren’t going our way lately. Is there something wrong with us? Are we cursed or doing something wrong? It just seems like God isn’t on our side or something.”

I choke out a bitter laugh because I have had these same thoughts.

I couldn’t breathe. I could feel panic setting in and I knew I wasn’t okay.

My mind began to race. I thought I was delivered from anxiety Lord! I thought you had saved me from these fears. I was so confused. I felt broken. Again.

It had been years since the darkness covered me in such a way. It had been years since the looming black cloud had made its way into my life.

I refused to go back there.

I refused to lose myself, my faith or my hope.

I refused to pick up the chains of slavery, when I had been set free and delivered.