One of the hard things about being separated and looking at the possibility of divorce is the change of identity and roles. Sometimes it is hard to get my feet under me concerning who I am and exactly what I’m supposed to be doing. I’m a wife, but I’m not. I’m a single mom, but I’m not. I’ve always been the strong one who people depended on, and now, I feel like it is a great accomplishment to make sure we have three meals a day.

Most days I don’t feel like me, like the me I’ve been or the me I’ve wanted be. I’m not sure who this person is who cries so easily, struggles to battle feelings of rejection, and can’t function without a to do list. But surely, surely she isn’t really me.

This morning I lay in bed feeling heavy with the weight of everything, feeling like I’m fighting to get to get my feet under me, and I prayed all I know to pray. “God, please give me a foundation to stand on because I’m sinking.”

I hope for a verse. Instead, I receive love notes all day long.

As I sit with my coffee, the ache in my heart throbs. I feel like I am drowning in rejection and abandonment. “Dear God, I know I’m not really rejected. I know there are people who love me and accept me. I know…But why do I have to fight so hard to know?”

You’re a formidable foe.

The words fill the room. I let them soak into me.

A formidable foe.

It’s who you are.

Right now, I just feel battered.

I text a friend and tell her I am struggling with feeling inadequate and rejected. She texts back—a prayer, asking for strength and healing, blessing me, thanking God for me.

Accepting you…loving you…fighting for you…You are worth the effort.

My vision blurs, and my breath catches. Worth the effort…

It’s who you are.

I want to believe that.

Then believe it. It is who you are.

The buzz of my phone brings me out of my thoughts. I read the text. “I’m scared.”

I feel the pain, the overwhelming fear.

I don’t bother with a text. I call.

There is a place in her step-dad’s brain. They don’t know what it is. If it’s cancer, it’s inoperable.

She’s drowning.

I grab her hand, help her find her footing.

We talk about fear…and faith. We discuss strategies to keep the fear at bay, verses to give her strength. I assure her she can do this. I remind her she is a warrior. She is unsure. I’m not. She begins breathing on her own, and she is standing. She feels wobbly. I’m here if she starts to tilt. I’m not going anywhere. If she forgets what she is capable of, I’ll remind her. When she looks in the mirror and doesn’t recognize who she sees, I’ll describe her in detail until she remembers, and when she doubts she can be the person she wants to be, I won’t.

When we end the phone call, she thanks me and tells me what a great friend I am.

I say thanks and chuckle to myself.

It’s who you are.

I hear the words close to my ear, like a whisper…but they are clear.

It’s who I am. It’s who I want to be.

It’s who you are.

Again, the words are clear in my ear.

At a break in the day, I check my email. A friend has responded to something I wrote. She is concerned she hurt me and wants me to call her immediately so she can be sure I’m okay. I punch in her number.

She checks my heart. She shares hers. She tells me the amazing things God is doing in her life…and she tells me the amazing things she sees Him doing in mine. She blesses me…as a writer…as a strategist…as a prayer warrior…as a friend…as someone who is chosen to be in this season at this time to help others through.

She knows who you are. She sought you. She knows your purpose. She knows your value. That is why she wants you to stand with her.

She knows.

But more than that, I know.

I know I am really the person I want to be. I am sought after, valued, loved and accepted even in my weakness, serve a purpose others see, am a warrior who may take a breather but has not left the field, am trusted, covered, and strong.

It’s who I am.

But it’s more than knowing who I am. It’s knowing who He is…that He listens…that He hears…that when I am desperately hoping for a verse, He sends me love letters all day…to describe me in detail until I remember who I am.

Jerri Kelley, I’m That Jerri

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