I remember like it was yesterday the day I collapsed on my kitchen floor and couldn’t get up.

It’s almost 9 years ago.

We had just moved house, my husband had decided to quit his very stable and well paid job and start afresh in a new career that paid nothing for at least the first 6 months. My 3 yr old was struggling with constant respiratory illness and my 6 month old baby had came out of the womb pale, small and screaming, and 6 months on, was still pale, small and screaming.

I think I should have known something wasn’t quite right a few weeks before this, when I had calmly placed my screaming baby in his cot, shut the door and started walking to my girlfriends house, in my pyjamas. Or maybe I should have seen a warning sign, when I started wearing baseball caps to the local shops to buy the milk, absolutely terrified of bumping into anyone I knew.

The day I collapsed on my kitchen floor was the first time my body had physically given way on me. I remember much later on my mum saying in her wisdom “unless God took your legs out from under you Em, you would never have stopped. You needed to physically stop, before you could start to get better.”

So, there I was. Lying on the kitchen floor. My 3 yr old brought me my phone and I managed to call a beautiful girlfriend who had known me since I was a little girl – “I am on the kitchen floor and I can’t get up” I whispered.

I think from memory she arrived 40 minutes later from her house near the city.

And there it began.

I remember thinking ‘this is what it feels like to fail at life.’ I had gone from being an over-achieving wife and mother, highly capable of running her home, involved in ministry at church, caring for friends and family, to sitting in a chair, staring out the window and incapable of feeling or doing anything.

I lost the ability to speak on the phone, entertain visitors, reply to emails, go to church or the shops or even read my bible or a book.

It was the beginning of Autumn. My favourite chair was placed near a window where I could see the trees changing, and that is where I stayed, for close to 4 months.

My beautiful GP, with tears in her eyes diagnosed me. “You are exhausted Em. Burnt out. Empty. And it’s okay. You will get better. But for now, you need to step back from everything and just rest. Be still.”

I prayed a pretty desperate prayer to God in the early days. I begged him for the ability each new morning to be able to do that which had to be done for that day for my family. Nothing more.

I went from being an OCD control freak who loved planning things in advance and ticking off my to do list, to begging God at breakfast for just enough strength to make it to dinner.

And God in his beautiful faithfulness, each day, did just that. In the first months, I actually would get to bedtime and not be able to tell you much about what had gone on in the day. I was so numb. But my boys were alive, and so was I, so we had done okay.

The hero of this story was my Heavenly Father, who proved his faithfulness in my time of emptiness. I am a ‘doer’ and all of a sudden I could do nothing or offer nothing to him or anyone else it seemed. I remember having a sense that it was okay, for the first time in my life, to just be.

It’s funny what happens when we take away all of the noise and business and life gets stripped back to basics.

God’s gifts to me during that time were the autumn trees, praise and worship music and an audio devotional a girlfriend made me, after I realised I was too sick to even concentrate on reading my bible.

He also cared for me through my mum and mother in law, who came in and quietly cared for me and the boys while I sat in my chair. Not every day, but often enough to help us get by.

A handful of close friends would visit in small doses and sit with me, not saying much, but just being there.

And I remember feeling a little surprised and over-whelmed that my husband still loved me so much when I could do nothing for him and offer nothing to him. He was so patient during that time. He never placed a time line or expectation on me to get better. It felt like unconditional love.

Over time, I slowly started to heal. My sick screaming baby didn’t actually get better at this point, and we still searched for answers as to why he was so unwell, but because I stripped everything else away, I was able to deal with that situation a little better.

Time and sitting still was working. I couldn’t believe it.

After 4 months I was able to slowly re-enter life again. It was a scary thought at first. To begin with I would make short errands to the local shops, still with my cap on and be so proud of myself when I made it back in one piece.

There were many things that I used to do or be involved in, that I would never actually get back to. That was okay. Times like these are often a pruning. As God had proved himself faithful in my brokenness, he was also faithful as he slowly enabled me to start living more fully again.

What I didn’t know then, was that 5 years later, I would walk an even harder journey with our third son. But this time the journey didn’t break me. The lessons I had learnt in stillness, resting, trusting God to carry me and my family, came back to me with great clarity and I remember thinking ‘this is why we went through that. He was preparing me for an even bigger journey. But this time I dealt with it differently.

So, 9 years on from those life changing events, I still need to stop sometimes and remember….

I am not what I can DO. I am His beloved daughter, regardless of what I am or am not achieving in the worlds eyes.

I need to consciously push back the noise and business sometimes and re-learn the discipline of ‘being still’. This doesn’t come naturally to me, but it’s often only in the stillness that I really hear what he’s trying to teach me, learn and grow.

It’s constanty re-learning the He has made us all different. What one woman’s capacity for life is, will be different to another and that’s okay. As women we need to stop thinking ‘I don’t know how she does it’ and instead celebrate our differences. None of us really know each others intimate journey, her internal battles, her home life. Of course most of us only see everyone’s ‘coping’ moments.

He let my legs collapse out from under me that afternoon in my kitchen. I couldn’t stand if I had tried. Gently, but not without pain, He lifted me up, gave me rest, refocused my heart and mind and taught me to depend on Him again and not on my own strength.

I look back thankful for that time and try to keep making space in my life to not forget those important lessons.