Yesterday, I dumped my lunch down the side of my pants and onto the floor of the teachers’ lounge. Today, I burned a breakfast corndog. In the microwave. At school.
As I stood and watched students cough their way through the smoke pouring into the hallway, it occurred to me that:
A) There is a reason why I stay out of the kitchen whenever possible.
B) I don’t have it all together.
I feel like I need to say that again.
I don’t have it all together.
Today I forgot my keys, my jacket and the charger for Olivia’s feeding pump. I’m just getting around to returning missed phone calls (days late), and will probably end up putting off my to-do list for “just a little longer.” As a person who takes pride in competency and being on top of things, the current state of my life has me feeling pretty pride-less.
And maybe pride-less is a good thing.
As I sit here typing, words scroll through my mind like breaking news at the bottom of the television screen.
What if God has allowed the circumstances of my life to bring me here? To the point where there is nothing and no one to rely on but Him. Not even myself.
These are my words, spoken to Robert last night as we sat on the couch–both worn down and out, praying the baby would sleep just a little longer and that Olivia’s machines would stay silent. He wants his wife back, and I want myself back.
I found out recently that my thyroid hasn’t been working correctly. They say that’s the reason for the mental fog and emotional flood I’ve been wading through. It’s why I’m tired no matter how much I sleep, and my body just doesn’t feel right.
I’m too certain of God’s love to think that He would cause my thyroid to malfunction, but I do believe that our good God has a way of using the broken things in life to teach us how to find all that we need in Jesus. In Him alone there is …
–rest, though the nights are sleepless
–peace when emotions run high
–truth in the midst of confusion and chaos.
And the strength to go on. It’s something I didn’t see coming. That at the bottom of a pile of failures, I could find fortitude. How bravery can be born out of fragility. That prideless-ness creates emptiness–making room for God’s BIGNESS to show up.
“He must become greater and greater, and I must become less and less.”–John 3:30 (NLT)
Seasons don’t last forever, and I do ache for the day when my life doesn’t feel as if it is hanging by a thread. When the things that used to come so easily don’t feel nearly impossible. But while I’m here in this stage of diapers that far outnumber date nights, I pray I remember:
There is such a difference between stressing and stretching, between pressuring and pressing through.
So, may the capacity of my life be stretched as I give myself fully to Jesus. May I press into Him as He carries me through.
Pride demands that we shoulder a burden we weren’t built to carry, but surrender’s gift is a freedom we were created to walk in.
“Humble yourselves, therefore, under the mighty hand of God, so that he may exalt you at the proper time, casting all your cares on him, because he cares about you.”–1 Peter 5:6-7 (CSB)