The Valley part 3

My children wanted to be near me so I built a playroom. It was the envy of everyone on the street. I was determined that I could still be the perfect mother and the perfect shopkeeper. I had forgotten about my dreams about my marriage let alone being the perfect wife. I was far too busy to be the perfect anything but still I labored. I was almost mindless in my determination to make everything work. On my scale everything was ultimately going to balance but success somewhere became equal to me succeeding in the store. There were whole weeks I have no memory of; they all began to run together.
The first night I I stayed over at the store was to do accounting. I had set up a break room of sorts in the back of the store and I settled in for a long night of math. At about 2:30 am I got a creepy feeling like I was being watched and put all my work down to check out the store. That feeling never left me that night but it was the first time I can remember stopping and thinking, “Stephanie! What are you doing?” I now believe that feeling was the presence of something bad hovering around me when I went into a quite place. I didn’t like to be in the quite because I had not slowed down for so long. The feeling was something definitely evil and from that night own I had a hard time shaking it and not thinking about it. It made the hair on the back of my neck stand up.
As I look back at the fateful moment when my eyes were opened for the first time and I realized my shop was going under, I know it was a direct message. There were a lot of messages from God but at some point I had chosen to minimize His input. That night was something else trying to take hold in my heart. I had become bitter and resentful lashing out at my husband and even my children. I had forgotten why I was there and why I even wanted to be there.
In September of that same year, I had begun having panic attacks. I wasn’t sleeping but a few hours a night and I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being preyed upon. There was one person who would come into the store that had what can be best expressed as a dark presence. He spooked me and whenever he came into the store I felt like the air had been sucked out of me and what little peace was left was wiped away. It soon became clear that he was not there to be supportive but like a sentinel hunting for something. And it wasn’t just me who felt this. Others close to me felt it to and I became afraid of the store; certainly at night when it was quite.
On September ninth, I’d had enough of the panic and the daily treadmill and I knew I wasn’t going to make my rent. I was already behind and I just couldn’t see a way out of this mess. I went into the bathroom and got on my knees and prayed. The very thing I had forgotten to do was the last thing I did. Isn’t it interesting that the first thing we are to do is take it to God but It’s always the last line of defense. Sometimes, now over a year later, I feel like He was just waiting on me to see how far down I’d gone or how far down I’d go before I reached up for help. That presence in the store had not left until that moment. I had started teaching again at church and we were talking bout the faith of Abraham and Moses not wanting to do what was asked of him.
I pleaded with God to help me not even knowing if He would still listen to me. Fundamentally, I knew He would hear me but to what ends an answer would come I didn’t have the slightest inkling of a clue. He’d led me to this but was it time for me to go?

At about 7:30 pm, on September 9th, here is basically what I prayed, on my knees in the bathroom of the store:
“God, help me! Do not let me die here because I feel like I am going to die. Whatever you want me to do, like Abraham, I’ll pack up my tents and go where you lead me; even if it means closing the store and giving up on this. Help me, I will follow you. I need to know if you hear me and will help me. I am sorry I forgot to include you.”
Sean knocked on the door and we went home. That night was the first time I slept a whole night in six months.