There are wounds that wind our souls so tight we quit breathing from our bellies. That’s how babies breathe. Until the pain comes, we breathe from our bellies. Then we swallow the pain down to our guts and kill ourselves—but we simply think we’re trying to survive.

And, in reality, we are. What’s so horrible about that? Why should surviving make us sick?

It’s this question I have to capture; and have it be a memorial in time, so I’ll never forget. I don’t want to forget that surviving really does have more to do with thriving than I learned at first. That these two elements – survivng and thriving – are not opposites but brothers walking side by side. I never want to forget that brokenness is the invitation to wholeness. Rest, stillness, and wonder, much like faith, hope, and love, will outlast any and all of my striving.

Now I can look back and see and hear certain people speaking into my life. They are living memorials to their hard winters…

I wrote those words last winter and am so thankful to get to share them through a guest post at HIS-Israel yesterday. Read more here.

It’s called The Liminal Space of Pain. 

My favorite words in my essay this week aren’t mine, they come from Brennan Manning’s book Abba’s Child, 

In Love’s service, only wounded soldiers can serve.

Click here to read more. Learning and growing and healing, with you!



Hi, I’m Raynna Myers. I’m an author, photographer, homeschooling mom to six children, and wife, remembering how to breathe. This is where I share the journey.

I’m glad you are here. Subscribe to stay connected? I’ll send you my poem, Bound by Light, to say welcome and thank you.

Find my book of prayers Pray, Like a Woman in Labor on Amazon.