Foundation Work: On Living, Dying, and the Stuff in Between
By Kimberly Phinney
This is something I didn’t want to write. In fact, I’ve started and stopped it many times. But over and over it comes back, compelling me to put these words to paper.
I am aware it will sound ugly—and you might find reason to judge me. But I’m okay with that. I’m not sharing this because I am worried about me. I’m sharing because I care about people who are hurting, and I don’t want them to be alone or make the same mistakes I made.
So here is the ugly truth: I am not who you think I am. I have failed so many—and especially myself.
Maybe it’s just me? But getting really sick taught me how sick I already was.
Maybe it’s because you lose all control with critical illness. Or maybe it’s because you no longer have the luxury of believing your own hype when everything goes to hell. But no matter the reason, I know this for sure:
Suffering takes your house down to the studs so you can find out what your foundation is really made of.
After several months in a downward spiral— facing multiple surgeries for my Stage 4 Endometriosis, contracting sepsis, and losing my ability to walk—I was confronted with the reality of who I was and who I was not. And when I finally took that long, hard look in the mirror of my hospital room—emaciated and unrecognizable—I realized that if I was going to make it and learn to live again there were parts of me that were going to have to die in the fire.
So, here’s my confession: The ugliest thing I learned about myself through this prolonged season of illness is just how consumed I was by insecurity and vain pursuits.
They were my secret sins. And even I didn’t know I worshipped at their altars like I did—until everything was ripped away. It was when I couldn’t take a hit, that my addictions for approval and worthiness reared their ugly heads.
You see, I was a woman who stood before so many teen girls as their English teacher for years on end, begging them to love themselves—in every shape, size, shade, & season they inhabited. I was the posterchild for the “self-made” woman, putting myself through college, fighting for everything I had, and defying the odds when I faced them.
My students called me “strong,” “independent,” or a “role model” time and again. I would smile, thank them, and then look at my feet to conceal the hot shame brewing deep inside.
If they only knew my pleas were so persuasive because I was dying inside to believe what I said for myself.
If they only knew I ran miles until I collapsed after work—just to feel a little bit worthy. And that I even starved myself a time or two to fit into that size two at thirty.
If they only knew I measured who I should be, how I should behave, and what I should say based on who the people in the room wanted me to be. I didn’t know if I was a shadow or the world’s best actress—because I even fooled myself.
If they only knew my sword and shield weren’t my intellect and passion—but rather my make-up and meticulously achieved façade.
And they would never know—because I didn’t know—that I learned these acrobatics at being “acceptable” from being bullied in middle school, trauma and abuse through adolescence, and other stories I’m not yet ready to tell.
Somehow, after all my living and surviving in this jagged-edged world, I had learned the art of persona—but never the home of personhood.
I was a polished vessel lauded by many but known and loved by very few. Life had sent me a pervasive message—right down into my nervous system—that if I was going to be loved, safe, or worthy—I had to perform, perfect, and PLEASE. And if I couldn’t deliver, I sure as heck better die trying.
In so many ways, I was empty on the inside and didn’t even know it. Yes, I was kind, diligent, honest, faithful, and loyal. All traits I love myself for now. But those traits never ran deep enough to drown out all my pain, fears, and insecurities until I had to face the ultimate fear of suffering through critical illness and losing nearly everything.
Illness forced me to come home to a stranger. It forced me to realize my identity had been wrongly placed in the vanities of this world. Yes, I loved the Lord. Yes, I loved my family. Yes, I showed up whole-heartedly in all I did. But I was broken. I was incomplete. And I had made “good things become ultimate things,” as the late Dr. Tim Keller so eloquently penned.
I built my home on a foundation of sand, and it took a storm for me to realize it.
As I watched my body and abilities waste away, I learned my body was an idol. As I watched my youth and beauty fade, I learned my vanity was an idol. And as the friends left—one by one—and public esteem turned to gossip and unbelief—I learned that the company and opinions of others were idols, too.
Please hear me. Fitness, independence, body image, self-esteem, friendships, and reputation are not bad things. In fact, when they are put in the right order in our lives, they can be good things. But whoa unto us if we make these “good things" the “ultimate things” in our lives.
God reordered my life through intense and prolonged suffering—suffering I still endure today. He replaced my need for control with faith. He replaced my need for the fickle acceptance and esteem of others with his unabashed love in my isolation and brokenness. He replaced my identity, which was built on the sinking sand of esteem and vanity, with the eternal hope and security of who He says I am—not what the mirror says I am, not what the scale says I am, and most definitely not in what my critics say I am.
I am not those things. I am HIS. I know that now.
This rebuilding season has been extremely painful and disappointing. Losing very real hopes and dreams, like my health, fertility, relationships, job, and opportunities, dealt a heavy blow to my foundation. But I know the Contractor, and He is good. He knew what was rotting. He knew what would crumble in time. He knew what rust and moth doth corrupt. And He knew what had to be done to restore my foundation. So, in that way, this rebuilding season has been cleansing and clarifying, too.
What remains is what is real, and moving forward, I get to live my life in freedom with this divine understanding.
I know these revelations would not have come any other way. God knew this, too, and He wanted to use me, so He trusted me with this unbelievable suffering.
Who I am today is NOT who I was three years ago. The “me” I was wasn’t a bad person; she was just a hurting person who built her foundation on the wrong things. I ache for her now and all the years she suffered in silence. So much of it wasn’t her fault; she was just trying to survive. But today, this woman who writes her heart out to you now has been rebuilt—from the ground up. This new “me” is a woman whose foundation was tried by fire and who learned to walk out the other side.
Yes, I nearly lost it all, but in the losing came the gaining. And in the dying came the living.
I share this all with you now to ask you something so important: How is your foundation? Have you taken a look at it lately? What parts of you should “die” so you can truly live? What “good” things in your life have you made “ultimate” things? What journey must you go on with yourself and your Contractor to replace those “good” things with the one true Ultimate thing?
There is no shame in our journeys toward wholeness. Most of us are doing the best we can with what we have. But there is something BETTER on the other side for all of us, and I pray you find it. For me, I had to find this treasure in the dark, so I could live it out in the light of day.
If my groping and learning helps just one soul, it will have been worth it.
And I hope that soul is YOU.
You belong here,
me
“You are God’s field, God’s building. By the grace God has given me, I laid a foundation as a wise builder, and someone else is building on it. But each one should build with care. For no one can lay any foundation other than the one already laid, which is Jesus Christ. If anyone builds on this foundation using gold, silver, costly stones, wood, hay or straw, their work will be shown for what it is, because the Day will bring it to light. It will be revealed with fire, and the fire will test the quality of each person’s work. If what has been built survives, the builder will receive a reward. If it is burned up, the builder will suffer loss but yet will be saved—even though only as one escaping through the flames.”
1 C O R I N T H I A N S 3 : 9 - 15
LEFT: Old me, healthy & fit but wildly broken in 2015. It hurts to look at this picture because all I can see is the anxiety and insecurities I battled. At 32, I was desperate to be loved and terrified of the future. There was so much tension inside of me, secretly battling infertility and disordered eating and fearing the motherhood I so desperately wanted. I hid my pain from everyone—even myself.
RIGHT: New me, sick & limited but completely whole in 2023. I finally had my daughter in 2017 after gaining ten pounds, conquering disordered eating, and decreasing my stress. Truly, it was a miracle we had her at all with my severe endometriosis. And today at 40, I am a survivor in every sense of the word. I am finally learning what it means to be content, to love myself inside and out, and to truly trust the Lord with my life and this illness season.
“For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the Lord, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future. Then you will call on me and come and pray to me, and I will listen to you. You will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart. I will be found by you,” declares the Lord, “and will bring you back from captivity”
J E R E M I A H 2 9 : 1 1 - 15
KIMBERLY PHINNEY
Kimberly Phinney is a mom, wife, and child of God. As a professional helper and artist, Kimberly is an English professor, as well as a counselor and photographer. Her writing has been published in Ekstasis, Fathom, Calla Press, Humana Obscura, The Dewdrop, and more. After surviving a severe form of Stage 4 Endometriosis and sepsis in 2021, she is now earning her doctorate in counseling to help the marginalized and suffering. She is the founder and editor of this faith community and literary journal, The Way Back to Ourselves, and was recently featured on ABC News and Good Morning America for her national teaching award and the compelling health story surrounding it. As a mental health and disabilities advocate, Kimberly hopes to use her life, story, and art to help others find their way back to wholeness and faith in a world that has forgotten how. She is glad you are here.