You will know how she is doing by looking at her fingernails. If her cuticles are pushed back and nail tips are at even and smooth lengths her faith is lined up with her soul. But if her cuticles are bright red and raw from being picked at and the tips are bitten down to scraggly nubs you will know her faith is off, and her soul has followed suit. You can know that she is probably struggling to stand in that spot and talk with you because while she is chatting away on the outside she might be crumbling on the inside. It is probably taking every shred of self-control she has to keep her feet planted and her hands still while she asks you questions about your life. She is probably trying to concentrate on her breathing so that the swirling thoughts will come to a stand still, and she might be able to retain your name.
But she is no victim. She is not weak minded and she is not weak in spirit. She’s got grit and tenacity. She is in training. This war torn woman has the hands of a fighter. When her hands wear the war and the battle on her fingertips she is scraping them up to hold onto the rock of God. Her head believes in her God. It is her heart that struggles to keep up.
Psalm 144:1 Blessed be the Lord, my rock, who trains my hands for war, and my fingers for battle: he is my steadfast love and my fortress, my stronghold and my deliverer, my shield and he in whom I take refuge, who subdues peoples under me.