It wasn’t pretty. Green shag rug moments rarely are.
You know the ones. Those undone, completely wrecked moments when the only thing left to do is fold yourself onto the floor and empty out every last ounce of ache at the feet of Jesus.
And there I was, facing the unwanted ending of twenty years of marriage, confusion and shock mingling with shame and sorrow as I poured it all out on my green shag rug.
It was 2017 and I didn’t want the story I was handed. I wrestled and bartered with God for many months. I told Him my story was too messy, He reminded me He was still writing. I told Him I was too broken to be useful, He pointed me to story after story of my broken biblical heroes who were anything but tidy.
Right there on that green shag rug, healing was happening. Transformation was taking place. And about a year into my healing, I felt a not-so-subtle nudge from Heaven. It was time to write.
I had always wanted to be an author. If you’d peeked into my teenage journal, you would have found my bucket list. Somewhere near the top, between get married and have kids, you would have seen write a feel-good book that makes people laugh.
I wanted to write about things that felt like sunshine and warm fuzzies. Nowhere on that list did it mention snotty-nosed, ugly cries on a green shag rug in the aftermath of broken dreams and wrecked plans.
But God doesn’t always ask us to write about the pretty things.
And one morning, as I lingered in His Word and listened deep for His voice, I found myself reading and rereading Isaiah 43:1. “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I have called you by name. You are mine.”
The word redeemed jumped off the page as though God reached into my little apartment with His own highlighter.
Redemption? Really, Lord? Couldn’t we start with something a little more…. I donno, funny?
Sometimes, the words that carry the greatest weight are born in holy moments of surrender, when nothing makes sense, the pain is still raw, and we choose to trust Him anyway.
The pain isn’t pretty, but the presence of Jesus in our brokenness makes those moments sacred. The most powerful words I’ve ever written grew out of the intimacy I found with Jesus on that rug.
And so, I went about writing. Not from my wounds, but from the places God was restoring and redeeming. His words from my scars.
Never underestimate what God can grow in the places where you’ve surrendered your plans and allowed Him to meet you in the mess. Those green shag rug moments? They can become the richest soil for a story shaped by the healing, redemptive power of the God of the valley.
Our stories don’t have to be finished before we begin working with the pieces that might help someone else. We do, however, need to tend to our own wounds, allowing space for healing so that we can share from a place of growing wholeness rather than open hurt.
Perhaps you’re living a story you never would have chosen. Maybe you’re still somewhere on the floor, wondering what God could possibly make of the brokenness.
You don’t have to know the ending or even understand all the parts to find comfort and healing in His presence right here in the middle.
Can I encourage you? Start writing. Write about what God is doing. Tell about what He has done in those painful seasons, those face down on the floor moments where it was just you and Him, and all that mattered was that Jesus never let go.
The truth is that I had no idea where to start. I didn’t know how to write a book, and I certainly didn’t know what to do once it was written. I just knew that my obedience in writing it mattered. So, I researched and reached in many different directions until I stumbled onto the Speak Up website, and in 2021 I attended my first Speak Up Conference. It was through this conference that I finally had the opportunity to sit with publishers and editors, and those connections opened doors I could never have opened on my own. Ultimately leading to two book contracts, including the one for my most recent book, This Isn’t the Story I Wanted.
So never forget your green shag rug moments, they matter very much to the Kingdom. Remember where you were when Jesus met you. Remember the prayers whispered through tears, the questions you couldn’t answer, and the One Who held you when everything fell apart.
It may not be the story you wanted. But, in the hands of the Redeemer, it can become a story that leads you into a deeper intimacy with Jesus and gives you words that reach places that polished, pretty stories never could.
What’s one verse God used to meet you in a hard season? Where was your “green shag rug,” the place you poured out your heart to God when life fell apart? How can I pray for you?
About Nicole Langman
Nicole Langman is an author, international speaker, and therapist in Ontario, Canada. With more than 25 years of experience supporting women through trauma, grief, and unexpected life changes, her greatest joy is helping women recover from brokenness and find their true identity in Jesus. Nicole is married to Brent, a man she calls “God’s exclamation mark in His love letter to her.” They have a blended family with three adult kids, a five-year-old granddaughter and a bernedoodle named Sadie. She writes from her forest loft along the shores of Lake Huron, and is the author of two books, You Are Wanted – Reclaiming the Truth of Who You Are, and This Isn’t the Story I Wanted – Grieving the Life You Lost and Trusting the God Who Stays. Connect with Nicole at www.nicolelangman.com.
Many things threw me to my knees in my life but nothing like having my husband of 32 years walk out. All prepared me for having to learn to forgive my son for murdering my mother. Never once did I ever walk alone.
Thank you for sharing this, Karen. What you’ve walked through is unimaginable. I’m so grateful you’ve experienced God’s presence and preparation. What a powerful testimony of His faithfulness and love. Thank you for this.
Nicole, what a great word! Thank you for your honesty. I think we sometimes think we are the only ones with green shag, face-on-the-floor moments. I really appreciate your insights on grief and how it shows up in many parts of our lives, not just as grief over a death. I think acknowledging and naming the feeling of grief has helped me so much recently to walk through a couple of difficult things. Your book and your openness have been a huge encouragement.