i remember laying in my bed at 18 staring at balloons in my room simply dreading my 19th birthday. when i was 19, i was scared to turn 20. i wanted to escape. as birthdays continued the theme continued. but i celebrated. with family, with balloons, with gifts, with dinners, with smiles. on the outside everything seemed okay. on the inside i was fighting the wildest, most intense war of depression. how can i celebrate another year of living when i simply don’t want to be here? why celebrate life when i can’t find purpose but only pain in my own life?
tomorrow i turn 29. for me, this is a victory. a win. a celebration. year 28 was one of the hardest years of my life and i didn’t think i would make it. this past decade was the most painful. but God. my God is turning bitter things into something so sweet though and i can’t wait to see what’s to come. this feels like the first birthday where the unknown has made itself known bold before me but walking hand in hand with God, i’m simply full of joy in the middle of the mystery. being entwined as one with the Lord, walking in step with the Spirit, every corner i turn, His goodness overwhelms me. He is redeeming a whole lot and all i can say is He is faithful and true.
this birthday i am thanking God for breath in my lungs. for LIFE. i can’t remember the last time that was the reality. but today it is.
REASONS TO KEEP GOING. you are loved. your story isn’t over. the world is not better without you. you’re so important. you have so many new memories to make. you have a purpose. you’re an overcomer!! your future is so bright. and a million other reasons. stay here. #genzwillbesuicidefree !!
“freedom on the other side of forgiveness” were the first words i wrote in my journal the morning of one of the most marking therapy sessions at Mercy. march 7th, 2023.
my counselor’s last words to me before i left her office that day were “become acquainted with freedom”. the hour in between was what felt like a storm had taken place. peaceful… but a storm. i took my place going into the battle, finding myself in the eye of the storm looking directly at my Jesus, but the rain poured, strength spent, tears cried. this cost me something. this cost Him everything. the storm settled, the enemy defeated, the rain stopped, steam still coming off the road, a rainbow in the sky. He keeps his promises. birds singing their song, reminding me i still have mine. oh, do i have mine. my heart is free. the words my counselor spoke ringing off the chains that had been freshly broken and shattered from around my heart… become acquainted with freedom. oh, sweet surrender.
in the middle of my journal quote and her words was an hour of sitting on the floor of her office forgiving the very people i never thought i could forgive.
i had no idea that “forgiveness” was on the “agenda” for the day but the holy spirit knew. he prepared my heart. writing down a “thought” in my journal wasn’t just a thought. it would soon become a reality that would shatter chains that had a hold on my heart that had made it hard to breathe. i hadn’t known that holding onto this was suffocating me. the thought of freedom on the other side of forgiveness would soon become a reality if i only walked in step with the Spirit and the divinely orchestrated leadership, wisdom and spirit-led counsel of my therapist. choosing obedience, choosing to forgive. God would certainly meet us in that room that day.
i had led us in communion to open up our therapy session and the rest isn’t just history. it’s forever part of a story i will tell.
only by the blood of Jesus could any of this be a reality today.
God went before me that day and prepared my heart – gently reminding me that freedom was going to make itself known to my heart in a radical way if i released those people and chose forgiveness. it took every bit of strength within me to choose to forgive but wow, i am so thankful i did.
for years i had wanted those who hurt and abused me to understand the pain that they had caused me. a previous day in counseling i had read my Jesus’ words out loud, “Father forgive them for they know not what they do”. as my counselor asked me what that meant, i began to realize that Jesus didn’t need the world to know what they were doing or the pain that they were causing Him in order for forgiveness to flow from His heart. that revelation changed EVERYTHING for me. it truly marked my mind and my heart. i didn’t have to wait for people to understand the pain they caused me in order to forgive them. i could choose freedom and release myself from the prison i was in. now. i didn’t have to wait any longer.
so i made the choice to forgive those who had hurt and abused me. it was purely out of obedience but in the coming weeks, the effects of forgiveness were catching up to me in the most beautiful way. what forgiveness was doing in my life was heavenly and could have only been supernatural. the simple act of obedience was a bridge that allowed the Holy Spirit to move and free my heart and mind in a way that only He could. no amount of “people understanding pain or years lost to X or X” could bring freedom. it would only be Jesus.
i am thankful for the reality of freedom that awaits us on the other side of that simple but wildly courageous act of obedience – choosing to forgive. it’s a choice. it might take every ounce of strength in us and finding someone to be by our side in it with us. but the freedom that is on the other side is beautiful. stunning. heavenly. weighty. full of glory. only by the blood can this be our reality. releasing people who have done us wrong and giving them over to the Lord. continuing to find freedom myself as i trace my hands along the golden thread of the Lord’s constant goodness in my own story. He has always been good. so i can trust Him in this. i can trust Him with my story, with these people, with my life. i can choose to forgive the very people who have hurt and abused me. it’s a choice. it can hurt. but it cost Him everything. and He is worthy of my everything.
again and again, i choose to forgive. it’s not easy and it might strip me of my strength. but my God promises to renew my strength. and i am reminded of the freedom on the other side. i become aware of a heart more free than ever before. things are beginning to shift. i see people in a different light. and i remember my counselor’s words, “become acquainted with freedom”.
day one without my dog was devastating. i had joked we were taking Soldier to the vet because he ate my nephew’s sock (been there done that twenty times) or just wanted to ride in my mom’s truck or just wanted some attention which is why he was getting some x-ray’s and an ultrasound. that night i was typing out the words “my best friend of 12 years. he saw me through it all since my junior year of high school. i love you Soldier. you’re a freaking butt and this wasn’t the plan today. i joked the whole car ride over to the vet that you were just faking being sick and wanted out of the house… that you maybe just “ate another one of hutch’s socks”. that you were getting an ultrasound and x-ray just because you wanted to make friends with other people. but you were really, really freaking sick and in pain. i’m gonna miss you Soldier. go chase all those deer and squirrels forever and ever and ever in your dreams. and go swim in the lake without permission. my best friend is gone. so sudden for us all today but he’s out of pain. soldier, you’re everyone’s fav. 🤍”
now it’s been 48 days. it’s felt like a day and forever. it’s been 48 days without Soldier Joe. i miss him big and one thing i continue to think about that i am absolutely thankful (!!) for is that i was HOME. in north carolina. that wasn’t the plan after leaving mercy. him leaving us was completely unexpected and sudden and traumatic but i was home. with him. woohoooo thanks to treatment… then finishing up i was home and had “helped my mom bring the dog to the vet” that day. so thankful i did. so thankful for the last few months i was able to spend with that butt. we all know that my year in Sacramento had me away from him and then being in Redding … but treatment had me back in Raleigh and then back with the butt. and i’ll forever be grateful for that. so thankful for that extra time with him. i remember sitting on the ground that day with Soldier as the vet told us that there wasn’t good news and that we could take him home for one night. he had cancer and it spread to his lungs. he could barely breathe. we didn’t know. we knew something was wrong but he was hiding it from us so well. if we wanted to take him home for one night we could. i remember sitting with him on the ground. she met us there. the only words out of my mouth as tears streamed down my face in front of a stranger, “there’s nothing we can do?”…”i’m not going to treatment tomorrow”, “i don’t want to take him home. he’s in too much pain” …“call gracie”…who just so happened to be in town for the weekend too. not a coincidence. thank you Jesus. all of it worked out. but man that dog is a butt. and i miss him so.
“just one more kiss”, i told Soldier before he left us. he had never had chocolate in his life but he ate half of that bowl full of chocolate kisses before he went to dog heaven. they say “no dog should go to heaven without tasting chocolate”… he got a taste alright.
no appetite for days turned into one heck of an appetite that last hour as he saw chocolate, peanut butter and marshmallows… all for him. as much as he wanted. what a butt. my last words to him too. man. how has it been 48 days without him chasing squirrels and deer in that yard or running down that hill or walking on the land. missing him big.
the day before i came back to the States, i was walking on Main Street in the middle of the Pearl of Africa. we stopped at one of the shops and began talking to the shop owner. after a few minutes of conversation, there was a break and pure silence. all but the hustle of life and boda boda’s buzzing around us. it was as if this stranger and i were no strangers at all in that moment. we made direct eye contact. my heart leaning away with hesitancy but filling up with an abundance of expectancy, i asked if she could give me a Ugandan name.
without a second thought, she looked at me and with a gentle but piercing smile and soft laugh under her breath she said, “Mirembe… it means peace”. she then gave me a hug, i left that shop and began walking down the street again.
although i will never see that lady again, i know for certain that i will never forget her. that moment with her was a powerful reminder. my identity is in Christ and who He says i am… not the labels that the enemy or this world attempts to hand me.
my identity isn’t in what other people see. my identity isn’t based on what i struggle with or who i used to be. just like the lady saw and spoke “Mirembe” not knowing that i might have even had anxiety in that moment, my identity comes from my Father and what He says and speaks over me. in that moment, He was reminding me…”peace, Annie.”
i can become acquainted with peace. it is possible with Emmanuel. as i come to know Truth, i can come to know peace. His peace. sweet, heavenly peace. “you keep Him in perfect peace whose mind is stayed on you because He trusts in you” (isaiah 26:3). my mind settles into that. as i come to know truth, i come to know His heartbeat and what His heart beats for. My heart beats to the rhythm of His. my heart settles. it comes to know rest and peace. His rest and peace. my body begins to live in it. to know His wrap-around presence. i am surrounded by a blanket of peace, not anxiety. it’s a greater reality. i begin to know this greater reality. a heavenly one. “Mirembe…it means peace”.
what that lady didn’t know was that peace was something that was foreign and fought for, for way too long. for too many years, i let my peace be stolen. fear and anxiety controlled every decision i made and led every step i took. hindered every step i didn’t take. it ruined relationships, my future plans, and buried dreams. anxiety was a blanket i carried and wrapped around me. occasionally, my heart would experience a slight break for a breath of air but it was never for long. fear cornered me. fear paralyzed me. fear suffocated. i never knew peace. what i did know was panic. enough to be given a label. but peace is a promise from my Father.
the lady on main street reminded me of this Truth. she had no idea who i was, where i came from, what my past looked like, or what i have struggled with. she had no idea of any diagnosis i had been given or what the battle was or still is in my mind.
but God knew. God saw. God sees. El Roi, isn’t He? God’s desire was for me in that moment and every moment after that. to know peace. perfect, pure peace. in my mind. in my heart. in my body. i believe God was reminding me of the Truth through the lady on the street in the middle of the Pearl of Africa. the lady whose name i’ll never know. but God knows. and He knows and sees her battles too. oh, and won’t He remind her of the Truth, greater reality and promises that cover her battles too. that’s just who He is.
i am thankful for that lady. although i don’t know her name, He used her as a vessel to remind me of this – when He sees me, He sees Mirembe. coming under that name. speaking it, declaring it, knowing it, becoming acquainted with it. it might be foreign and hard fought for, for me or even you right now, but it doesn’t always have to be. “Mirembe, it means peace”. the more we set our minds on things above, the more we will settle into this greater reality. the promises He speaks. the promises He keeps. peace is one of those promises. may we come to know it more today than ever before. peace. perfect peace. perfect, heavenly, peace.
annie snyder 