Three Months Deep


Everything changed at once. The rug pulled out from under us, trying-hard-to-keep-a-grip-on-life kind of change. This is a heavy season, with unceasing pace and slow painful growth. And my heart keeps searching for the emotional reassurance of feeling peace and hope. And I know, rationally, that I can’t depend on emotions to steer my life in any which way. But I wonder sometimes if I attempt to live life too rationally. And maybe I need to recognize the powerful currents change creates in me. The highs of victories lead me to wrestle with the after affects of what a shift really means.

I’m up-heaved, looking for my footing, navigating new territory. I’m trying to be an encourager when my well is so very empty. I’m also inspired, coming alive, challenged and pushed to grow. Life feels like I’m thriving and dying all at the same time.

I dance this intricate shifting line, all while trying to be myself in every scenario. I minutely schedule my studies, grappling with philosophy, fine-tuned practices and the big picture. I come home to being a mom, trying to unplug my scheduled self and go with the flow. I come home to gather burdens, try to fix hearts, try to breathe, and try to sleep. I contend with my body. I grieve over family.

I wrestle with who I am in this season, because no conventional moulds can offer me solace. I’ve got one foot in and one foot out of many circus rings. My arms are weary from holding up, you know, the entire world.

I wish I could end these heart wanderings with answers. My eyes have been opened to the fact that I don’t know what it means to lay my burdens down, and that I really do have a hard time of sharing them with others, especially when everyone else seems in deeper waters than me.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light,” Matthew 11:29-31.

Every time I read these words Jesus spoke, I itch. The phrasings seem so simple and like the exchange would be natural. In all honesty, I have no idea what He meant. In my humanity, I read these words, and I feel guilt. I’m not mad that hard times are here, I just feel guilty that I don’t know how to have peace in the midst of this crazy dance. I’ll find pockets of rest, but I have no idea how to carry this peace and clarity to face the fastballs headed my way.

This week God sent encouragement our way. Many friends have prayed over us and spoken encouragement. I hear the words knocking on my heart, trying to get me to stop and take some time to feel.

I am not failing.

My family is protected.

Jesus is really in the boat with us, and He does know what we face.

May supernatural hope come our way.

May we see God breakthrough the walls in front of us.

May we fill up again and be on the mend.