For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12

 My friend Rita, a worship artist I adore came to encourage and speak to a small group of women who were gathered at my house.   She surprised us all with a letter and a prophetic word.  Hope and tears filled the eyes of my treasured friends as Rita spoke words straight from the heart of God to their hearts.

I was the last one to receive my word for the evening. Rita said, “Megan I was talking to the Lord and He said the word grubbing.  Grubbing is the removal of roots that may remain in the soil. This includes the removal of all logs, brush, and debris, as well as the grinding and removal of stumps and proceeds construction.” She went on to say, “The Lord has always fully known you but you have not fully known you.”

Secretly, I was disappointed with my word. Clearing the land? Removing stumps? Making space? I have not fully known me?  All of the words made me a bit exhausted and surprised. I recorded the word on my phone and tucked it away.

I was in a season of sweet intimacy with Jesus.  I woke up every morning and felt like He was hovering and waiting patiently for me to awaken so we could have more conversation, play, and worship.  I heard his voice with such clarity.  I would talk and weep and laugh while running, doing the dishes, folding laundry, and on long hikes. I felt like I was being wooed by Him daily. The balm of His presence was healing the deep places in me.

And then about 10 months later I was on a run. As I rounded a steep hill in our sub-division I began to sense a nudging that it was time to return to counseling. I had been to a week-long intensive where Dan Allender said, “true healing happens when we tell our story with particularity in the presence of another person.”  This was terrifying to me. The counseling office had been a place of nothing but trauma and unspeakable harm. I couldn’t imagine telling so many parts of my story and for sure not in the presence of another person.

I began to weep. What? I started pleading with God – “But what if…”

I went home and emailed a lady that had been recommended to me earlier that year. I laid my head on my desk and started to wail. In some ways I felt like I was being passed off by God. He seemed like the perfect counselor.

Five months later I walked into a counseling office for the first time in years. I didn’t imagine I would go often, after all I just had a few lingering things to address. But all hell broke loose in me.  Could I trust? I stared deep into the eyes of the lady sitting across from me and watched every expression and move she made.  Would this time be any different? Really?

Week after week I entered, perched at the very end of her couch. Never wanting to get to comfortable in case I had to make a mad dash out the door. My lips would quiver, my insides tremble. I would leave and go to my car and scream “I am never coming back here again.”  There was a holy revolt inside of me. But again there was a wooing. Something was different. Someone was leaning in and calling to me, “Where are you?” Sometimes I don’t have words, sometimes I slip away to a safer space inside of me and need to gently be asked to come back.

The most courageous thing I can do is to keep showing up and clearing space in the deepest terrain of my heart.

Stumps, roots, grinding, debris making space. My eyes are being opened to the deeply embedded root of the lies I have believed and they are being rewritten with truth. My calloused  hands keep working the hoe to clear the debris that trauma has ravaged my life with. My knees are worn and my nails are full of the soil of contempt and self-hatred that I have literally had to dig in and wrestle with and turn over and over.

Grubbing has been a holy, costly, and laborious work, but each week I am still bringing myself to this space. This space is where I have seen the face of Jesus through another human being, this space is where I bring my younger parts who need so much care. In this space I am beginning to fully know who I am.


Megan thrives alongside her husband of 15 years in Colorado. She is the mother of six children. While walking faithfully with friends, Megan co-hosts a marriage conference, a Christmas show, and a songwriter’s retreat. She loves Hot Tamales and Essential oils. She is a natural gatherer and organizer. You’ll find her listening to audio books while doing laundry and Costco runs.