Growing Pains: How Hurting Helps

I just don’t think I can do it, y’all. My oldest came home from school yesterday branded with her “Senior 2020” shirt. She beamed as she turned around modeling her school colors.

I literally felt like I had been punched in the gut.

She wanted me to be happy for her and get excited with her. But I just couldn’t do it. Not yet.

And since motherhood is an unrelenting profession, my youngest also came home late from being out with friends last night and wanted to ‘spill the tea.’ Y’all know that’s just slang for catching up, right? Ok. It took me a few times to catch on to that one. She sat there talking to me about things that are really hard. She’s got so much confidence, that kid. Then suddenly, it hit her. Middle School is over next week. She’ll walk out of the last 3 wonderfully awkward years of her life and into a big scary 4 years that defines who she is.

And she started crying. “Mommy! I don’t want to go! I’m not ready!”

In that moment I was faced with the decision to either cry with her, or lie and tell her it would all be ok. Let’s face it. It will not ALL be ok. High School is hard and it knocks you around a bit.

The truth is, if we all waited until we were ready for all the things we wouldn’t do any of the things.

I keep looking at all your pictures on Facebook of how brave you all are. Celebrating last days. Graduations. Moving on. Growing up. And as much confidence that I have in my girls that they can rock the Senior year and survive Freshman Academy, I just don’t think I have it in me to keep encouraging them when I want to curl up and hide myself.

So, here’s the thing. The biggest, scariest, most challenging moments in our lives are also the greatest, most wonderful, rewarding things in our lives. Facing our Giants armed with only a few tiny pebbles is what makes us stronger and more triumphant.

When Lucy was little, she suffered from growing pains.  She was six or seven years old, but it was like having a newborn again. She’d wake up in the middle of the night calling for me until I would go into her room and rub her legs to ease the pain. We would do that night after night. Until one night she didn’t need me to do that anymore.

Growing hurts.

Moving on from the comfortable little middle school or standing on the edge of the nest and stretching your Senior wings is scary. Until you finally take the leap and realize the wind resistance against you is what you needed to make you fly after all.

I’m bound to cry a lot in the next 365 days. My girls will too. I know I will ache so bad I’ll wish someone would come to rub out my growing pains. But, I’m also hoping that through it all, when it’s finally time (ok, y’all where are those tissues??) to let go of the things we have come to love so much,  my girls will look back and realize how much strength they really had. And how, really, they made me the better person.

 

 

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God at the Molecular Level {The Trinity Watered Down}

 

I will never know the answer to some of life’s little mysteries.

Where does the other sock really go?

Why can’t I run out of shampoo and conditioner at the same time? Like, ever?

Why do my kids feel like they need to wake me up to tell me when they can’t sleep? As if that helps either one of us!

And why does my little Facebook notification badge fluctuate from 11 to 5 back to 11 and then land on zero? It’s a dirty game, Facebook. Stop it.

All of those things are fun to ponder, but there’s one mystery that will never truly be answered and weighs a whole lot more than the rest. I really like to sit and think about it as if one day the answer will be revealed to me somehow. It’s foolish to believe it ever will, but I’m a deep thinker by nature and I can’t help it.

The Holy Trinity.

My family and I were discussing it over dinner one night. Because that’s what we do. Sure, we discuss what happened at the lunch table and why we shouldn’t have to take a high school chemistry class. We talk Alabama football and Lord help us all when there’s a political scandal. But who wants to talk about football and politics over a plate of spaghetti when you can talk about things that really matter? Eternal things. God things. Jesus things. And the Holy Spirit.

We act like these things can’t ever be explained. I believe that until we get to Heaven, we won’t truly grasp the enormity of God and all His mysteries. But, I also think we tend to complicate things that He meant to be simple.

The Gospel is simple. Jesus is the son of God, a gift from Heaven. He lived a sinless life, took on every one of our sins and was sacrificed on a cross. He died and rose again. Anyone who believes that gets eternal life. Simple. We complicate it with denominations, rituals and our legalistic practices.

I believe the Trinity is simple too. I once just accepted it as a blanket truth because I couldn’t understand it. It was just one of those things about God I planned to ask Him about when I get to Heaven. Now I believe its explanation is in plain sight and meant to be understood at the elementary level. How can a God in heaven also be God as a man, Jesus, and also be left as a counselor lingering on the earth as the Holy Spirit?

Simple.

To understand this, let’s use our child-like faith and drop everything that hinders us and the things that so easily entangle us and think about the one matter that is essential to all created life. Water.

Jesus answered, “Everyone who drinks this water will be thirsty again, but whoever drinks the water I give them will never thirst. Indeed, the water I give them will become in them a spring of water welling up to eternal life.” John 4:13-14

It is no coincidence that Jesus uses a water analogy to talk about eternal life since all naturally created beings need water to live. But to me, this is the key to unlocking the mystery of the Trinity.

Water is the only substance that still maintains it’s molecular design in 3 different forms; it’s H2O as solid, liquid and gas. God is all three at once – God in Heaven, Jesus on Earth and the Holy Spirit living in and dwelling among us.

Father

God as solid ice seems cold, distant and untouchable all the way over there in Heaven. Hardened and seemingly unjust. But He still holds healing and preservation powers. Like an iceberg, there’s so much under the surface of God that we can’t possibly fathom His complexities. Strong enough to move mountains, but oh, how He loves us!

Son

So, He came down and sat criss-cross with us on the floor. He dug into the mess we made so we could touch Him and begin to understand Him. We relate to Him, Jesus. Just like the tangible and refreshing liquid that is water. He’s the universal solvent offered to all of us to soften our hardened clay hearts. We were soiled, so he cleansed us and gave us new life. Sweet smelling like the rain. Peaceful as a mountain stream. Powerful as a roaring waterfall and vast as the oceans. He invites us to dive deep into a free-flowing relationship with Him.

Holy Spirit

As any human life must end on earth, Jesus ascended back to Heaven. But He left us with something better. A friend and omnipresent advocate, God’s Holy Spirit. Vapor-like. Invisible like a gas. Still mightier than a steam engine, the Spirit moves and breathes with us. It’s closer than our thoughts. And I like to think of it as bound to believers at the molecular level. Part of our DNA that guides who we are and cannot be separated from us.

It stands to reason, doesn’t it, that if the alive-and-present God who raised Jesus from the dead moves into your life, he’ll do the same thing in you that he did in Jesus, bringing you alive to himself? When God lives and breathes in you (and he does, as surely as he did in Jesus), you are delivered from that dead life. With his Spirit living in you, your body will be as alive as Christ’s! Romans 8:1

There is no possible way to fully understand God and His mysterious ways, but I believe He wants us never to give up the infinite quest to try. May we always have an unquenchable thirst to know more of Him, be closer to Him and to emulate His example.

As the deer pants for streams of water, so my soul pants for you, my God.

Psalm 42:1

 

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Grace {How Lamenting Helped Me Find It}

I’ve been crying a lot today. I haven’t cried in a really long time. But, I’ve been crying a lot today. Nothing tragic has happened. No one has hurt my feelings. I’ve just been crying.

When I told my husband of my emotionally bad day, he didn’t really blink. I don’t have them often, and I pray this one is also temporary. He said, “Well, you’re a girl so… sometimes you just need to cry.”

He’s right. Sometimes I do.

I guess it just caught me off guard, because like I said nothing is really wrong. It’s all the little things that added up to one really big thing and the waters finally burst through the flood gates. Little things like feeling inadequate on how I handled a situation. Or some things that I left undone or didn’t follow through. And goodness if I could just learn that comparing myself to others is nothing but a malicious game the enemy likes to drag me to, make me sit in the stands and cheer for.  I can never win that game.

So I cried. I cried and lamented. Which, by the way, is different than complaining. Lamenting is expressing your grief and sorrow. Complaining is expressing your annoyance with something.

God encourages us to lament to him on days like today. Days when you just can’t stop crying and you don’t know why. He knows why. But He loves the intimacy you share with Him when you pour out your heart. He’s jealous for your time and expression and is very patient when you finally choose to take a moment to grieve.

I had grown faint from crying. Breathless and weak. It’s when I paused to float on the river of my tears that God whispered.

“Grace.”

I struggle so much with feeling inadequate. “God, I’m not good enough! I’ll never be good enough for you!”

“Child, Grace!”

Like a warm rushing wind it flowed through me. The reminder that His grace is always sufficient and I don’t have to be. I forget this way too much!

So, I picked myself up off the floor. Wiped my tears and started moving again. I started breathing again. My lament turned to worship and my sorrow to a tear-stained joy.

It’s not been my best day. But, I needed the cry. I needed the gentle reminders.

And I cannot survive with grace.

 

Hear my prayer, Lord;
    let my cry for help come to you.
Do not hide your face from me
    when I am in distress.
Turn your ear to me;
    when I call, answer me quickly. Psalm 102

 

 

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Parenting {How Prayer Helps}

I hate parenting.

I know. You’re all thinking it though. You hate it too.

Why does it have to be so hard?

When I first learned I was pregnant with my first child, I fell to my knees and cried. I was only 24. I wasn’t ready for a baby!

I was so wrong. Sleepless nights, explosive diapers and endless crying was so easy. I can say that now because I am not in the midst of it. Those days were a breeze! I can totally handle a baby.

But I didn’t get a baby. I got a person! That baby has a personality, an attitude and mood swings.

I tell people all the time that I prayed to have boys. I wanted boys so bad. Growing up with brothers, I was used to the rough and tumble, the noise and the smelly socks. Boys are straightforward and come without all the d-r-a-m-a. Their fiances pay for the wedding and there is no cute hashtag for us moms with girls. (#BoyMom much)?

God laughs when you make plans. So, he gave me two beautiful girls.

Don’t get me wrong. I LOVE my girls. #GirlMom

I love when they want to talk about the boys, when they ask me to blow-dry their hair and when I get the sweetest texts in the middle of the day. I love to shop with them and cook with them. I love to talk about their dreams and watch their eyes as they dance with thoughts of their future.  I even love their celebrity crushes and can remember how it felt when my own favorite boy band came on the radio.

I just hate parenting.

It hurts too much. And Mom, if you are reading this, you were right. It really does hurt me more than it hurts them. There. Now it’s in writing.

I can change a diaper. I can’t change a failing grade.

I can soothe crying with a pacifier.  I can’t mend a broken heart.

I can drive my kid to every activity under the sun until Jesus comes back. I can’t fully let go when they drive out of my driveway.

It boils down to the fact that I just feel helpless. Here I am, the one they have always called to when they scraped their knee or had a bad dream. But now real life is getting in the way of my magic mom powers and I can’t fix everything anymore.

What scares me even more is that, as teenage girls, I am sure there is more that needs to be fixed than what they are telling me.

I hate it.

So, what’s a mom to do? We’re in this for life.

Exactly!

Each moment builds to the next and stretches out into a beautiful life. My girls aren’t babies any more. And one day they won’t be teenagers either. They will be adults with their own worries and regrets. Hopefully, they won’t be in therapy because of me and the way I handled their teenage years.

So, I pray. I beg God for help and for guidance. For strength and for wisdom. I pray for their dreams to come true and for them to stay healthy. I pray for their minds to be focused on righteous and holy things. I pray for them to make good decisions and for all the stinky boys I wanted so badly to not lead them astray.

It’s still so hard and I still hate it.

But maybe that’s the point? Having teenage girls has done wonders for my prayer life.

When they were babies I prayed over them as I rocked them to sleep. I pray for them now as they pull out of the driveway. I will pray for them as they walk down the aisle and after we hang up from long distance phone calls.

Being a mom means my children always have someone who is praying for them. Their advocate during the tough times and  their cheerleader in the good times.

Thinking of it that way helps me realize what a privilege it is and makes me hate it a little less.

 

 

 

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Disappointment {Wants and Needs}

I wish someone would have told me that disappointments were a part of life. No one ever pulls you aside to tell you to prepare for failure. No. People always set you up for the win. They set you up to succeed and to get the little trophies at the end of the game.

Is this why we often feel stuck? We feel stuck in our jobs, our marriages and the relationships we have. We feel like our kids could always be more like someone else’s and not like the ones God gave us. Not that we don’t love our own kids. They just could be a little smarter. Cooler. Not as whiny. And goodness if they would just once clean their room without being asked!

We wish for different hair, different skin and a different body. We are not ever satisfied with what we’ve got as if our Creator didn’t know what He was doing. (Sometimes I do wonder though. Ok. There. I said it!)

But it’s got me thinking today. Disappointment. I’ve felt it a lot.  And someone said recently it’s because I put my expectations in the hands of my fellow humans. Hmmm.  Maybe. We are all pretty flawed. And I wouldn’t have written the above paragraph if I didn’t think there were truth in it.

I think, however, that it’s quite the opposite. The disappointment I feel is not because I rely too much on my peeps, it’s because I don’t rely enough on Jesus. I compare my circumstances on what I think others think and not what Jesus thinks. He, I am sorry to say, is not always my gold standard.

Also, I invented a new word today. Pharasitic. I think it’s pretty awesome and I am going to talk to Webster about it.  But I have been pretty Pharasitic lately.

<Deep breath in>  Yep. I’ve not only been disappointed by you people, I’ve been pretty judgey (that’s a new word too).  I’ve been working so hard trying to keep up and look pretty against all you prettier and smarter gems that I have found myself stoking my fires of pride.

Ouchie. That stung a little.

But I know what I’m doing, right? I’m 42…wait. Not yet. I’m 41 years old. I’ve seen a thing or two. I’ve got it going on. My kids are smart, (albeit messy). They both love Jesus and it shows. My husband, let’s just face it, he’s awesome and a great dad. I love my job. I have healthy parents who are still married after 51 years. And my friends are the bomb dot com!

Even with all of that, I struggle. I struggle to realize I am wanted and not needed. There is a difference, my friends. God doesn’t need me to fulfill His plans. He wants me to fulfill His plans. God doesn’t need me to love Him and serve Him. He wants me to love Him and serve Him.  I think that is where my disconnect lies. I think that is where a lot of us start using the fuzzy math. Want and need are not equal.

I think once we realize who wants us (Hint, look up) we can set aside the disappointments and we can stop being so Pharasitic. Hey! I used it in a sentence! My mother would be so proud!

 

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Thoughts While Doing Laundry

It wasn’t a bad day. The travel was easy through 240 miles of roundtrip rain. Traffic was light. Lunch was even indulgent and the conversation was spirited.

I am just very impatient.

I want things my way most of the time. I want things when I think they should be done. I don’t like to percolate.

My faithful blog followers know that my husband suffered a traumatic injury last year. That’s over 365 days for anyone counting. It was very hard and miraculous all at the same time. We look back and marvel at the ways God got us through that time. (Read about it here.)

Hold on to that thought. That whole God part. Because I sometimes forget it.

Today was a one-year follow-up appointment. We took off work and drove the 2 hours to Nashville.

I’m not sure what I had expected at the appointment, but whatever it was I didn’t get it. I must have thought the doctor would ask to waltz across the floor with us when he got back the x-rays and that confetti would fall from the ceiling. No doubt they’d break a champagne bottle and throw wreaths around our necks.

I was ready to celebrate.

But that’s not what we got at all. Instead the doctor came in, handed us the x-rays and shrugged.

“It’s still in place,” he said about my husband’s donated elbow.

That’s it? That’s all we get? Just that it’s still there?

Ok, so I need to back up a bit because most people would think that’s a win. And it really is. It’s not a step backward and I am thankful.  But for the surgery to be declared a success the allograft needs to “come alive.” Meaning it needs to transfer blood and marrow and begin to act like my husband’s own bone. If it doesn’t, it can deteriorate inside his body and we’re essentially back where we started a year ago.

Right now there is no evidence that it’s doing what we want it to. But there is no evidence against it either. So, there’s that.

If I’m telling the truth I was surprised by all of this. Isn’t a year long enough? Shouldn’t we have answers by now? Can’t we just. move. on?

What is it that you are waiting for? A baby? A new job? Restored health?

I’m there. I get it. I want to never have to see those people at the doctor’s office again. I mean they’re nice and all, but…

All of our anxiety and disappointment stems from a lack of being still. We forget that God is there in the waiting too. He’s not off in the weeds looking for the answer. He’s got it in His mighty hand while we cozy up to Him and wait for him to reveal it to us.

I imagine it as a Father who has the perfect gift for His child. He’s picked it out months in advance and just can’t wait to give it away. But if He doesn’t time it just right it spoils the surprise. It spoils the excitement and loses a bit of it’s glory and awe.

There are lessons in the waiting. Endurance. Perseverence. [sigh] Patience. And Trust.

All of those things are virtues the Father wants to bestow and develop in us and we miss out if we’re the child begging for the gift to be given before the right time.

The anticipation of what He can do in our lives while we wait should be enough for us to always want that white space. We cheat ourselves. We cheat God when we try to move faster than His perfect plan.

Apparently, we have two more years to wait for an “all clear.” This was news to me.

So here I am tonight. Catching up on laundry. Ignoring the dirty floors and wishing I had something more fabulous to cook for dinner. Here I am living my life one more day in the ordinary of our new normal and snuggling up to my Heavenly Father just waiting for Him to show me what spectacular treasure He’s got hidden behind His back.

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The Dramatic Pause: Life With Teenagers

I had such a busy day sprawled out ahead of me. Staff meetings. Orthodontist appointments. Rehearsal. Dance class. And the little thing we like to call ‘work’ was mixed in the middle of it all. Praise God for whoever invented the crock pot.

I rushed out of my staff meeting early to pick my teenager up for a routine orthodontist appointment. I expected to drop in and drop out and be done in under an hour. But, of course they were backed up with patients today. No worries. More time to waste on social media.

When my daughter finally emerged from her good old-fashioned tooth straightening, I was ready to send her straight back to school. There were still miles to go before I could sleep.

But she said, “I’m hungry and I’ve missed lunch at school.”

“So, eat the lunch I packed for you this morning. You can eat it in the car.”

<Enter dramatic pause>

“You were hoping I’d take you out for lunch weren’t you?”

Teenagers always seem to have a way of planning everything around food. It’s never “Who will be there?” or “What time should I be ready?” It’s always, “What will we have to eat there?” I am very certain that my children ask me, “What’s for dinner” more than any other single question and at multiple times during the day. I suppose they think I may change the menu or worse yet, forget to feed them.

But she got lucky today. I was hungry myself and there was nothing waiting for me back at the office. So, I let her choose a place that I could drive through and send her on her way.

As we pulled into the parking lot, I was gently reminded that these times are fleeting. I will not have many more precious moments and requests for a lunch date before my beautiful girl goes off to college in a couple years. So, I seized the moment and offered to dine-in. She gladly accepted the invitation. I know it was more to avoid returning to AP History class, but a mother can pretend that her company is appreciated even by her 15yo daughter.

I am so glad she accepted my invitation. We are both so busy. It felt so good to spend an uninterrupted moment with her. It was there sitting across from my baby girl as she dove into a pile of greasy french fries that she took my breath away. I had forgotten how gorgeous her eyes are. God gave her the most amazing colored eyes speckled with greens and blues, all trimmed with a deep indigo rim. One day some undeserving boy will look into them and sweep her off her feet.

But not today. Today when I asked her how she was she answered with the generic, “Fine.”

And then followed it with another dramatic pause. She’s good at that.

Whenever she starts a sentence with, “Soooo….” I know I am in for a very long discussion.

She was very troubled by something a friend of hers had trusted to her. It was between sips of her Dr. Pepper that she spilled some very heavy information to me. She kept telling me about the situation and I just listened and tried to offer advice when she asked for it. I couldn’t help but think how very lucky I am to have a daughter who is a). Willing to be seen eating french fries with me and b). Still seeking advice from me in her teen years.

While she was talking I remembered back to when she was a doll-baby and she’d talk and talk and talk to me about the most random things. And I think because I listened to her when her biggest problems involved imaginary friends, she can trust me even more now when her friends are very real.

Let us never discount the importance of even the smallest things in our children’s lives. For if they can trust us with the small things, they will be more likely to trust us with the big ugly things later. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather my kids trust me with the big ugly stuff than to trust the rest of this world.

I am so very glad I took a few more moments in my day to eat lunch with one of my most favorite people. It eased a bit of her burdens to talk some things out. And if the truth be told, it eased some of mine too. I’m not a perfect mom. I mess up a lot. I yell at my kids and forget to sign permission forms, etc. But I like to think I got it right today. In the middle of a crazy Tuesday, I took the road less traveled by way of a fast food restaurant and it made all the difference.

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Simple Creations

It is impossible for me to believe that God created everything in less than a week. You cannot convince me.

Because God is the same today as he was yesterday. He remains unchanged for tomorrow. Although He is many different things, He is the one thing that remains constant in our lives. Father, Physician, Provider, Omnipresent, Graceful, Merciful,

Creator.

If He’s the same today as He was thousands of years ago, I have to believe that He is still in the business of creating. It’s this belief that fills me with awe simply by peering at a rose. It’s this mind-set that draws me closer to Him when I hear the whisper of the wind. Each new day seems to brim with possibilities when you know that it is freshly prepared by an ever-present creator. As an artist carefully crafts his masterpiece, so too does the Master Craftsman sculpt each new day.

I get so excited when I think about this stuff! It seems so scientific to many, I’m sure. Birth. Growth.

But, I love to look deeper. I love to try to actually see God push up the tree branches. It’s fascinating to try and catch a glimpse of His hand shifting and building the clouds. My favorite is to imagine his arms enveloping me when He sends a warm wind.  What if I could ever catch him painting the sky?

Maybe all of this sounds childish to you. I could understand that. But I am not here to defend the ways I see God or understand Him.

I just want to share with you how simple God really is. He asks us to have faith like a child. To me, that means to also live in child-like wonder of the simplest of things.

 

 

 

 

 

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A Few Thoughts On Harvey

I just don’t think I could survive a flood. I don’t think I could stand the feelings of helplessness, hopelessness and loss. Surely grief would creep in there somewhere. Confusion. Frustration. Uncontrolled heartbreak.

Flood. Overwhelming amounts or quantities.

It’s more than just the unrelenting rain and rising water. It’s also the emotional flood I am sure I couldn’t withstand.

The news is something I actually try to avoid at all costs. But, oh sweet Houston! You’ve got a problem! The biggest natural disaster this country has seen in over a decade and my heart hurts so much for you!  But, I am also so incredibly proud of you!

Among all the chaos, raw human beauty is emerging. Like a worm being transformed in order to take wings, you are inspiring a nation to lay down all the ugliness and fly. You are living out love the way we were created to do. You’re crossing over invisible lines drawn for the salvation of another man and it’s awe-inspiring.

I recently spoke with a group of women on how to find joy in your journey. Even in some of our most devastating times, it is so hard to find joy or even a reason.  When the floodwaters rise, we still need to trust that God’s got it all figured out for His glory and for our good.

But if you’re stranded out on the roof of your house soaked to the bone with no end in sight, it’s often easy to forget. It’s easy to lose hope and to lose joy.

My list of ways to find joy in the journey:

1. Trust God and lean not on your own understanding.

2. Remember it’s temporary. Even Noah got off the Ark. 

3. Take time to abide in Christ every day.

4. Count your blessings.

5. Remember your salvation in Jesus.

But looking at the footage from Houston, I know I forgot to add something to that list and that is:

6. Find ways to love thy neighbor. Every neighbor. Even the ones you think aren’t like you.

In the midst of your flood, your trial and heartbreak seek ways to share the burden. Find the common ground that we all share. We were all made by the same Creator who loves each one of us in the most beautiful mesmerizing ways. Act like it!

Houston, you’re acting like it! You’ve been dealt a bad hand. But I can see, even way over here in Alabama, how God is using you to heal a broken world and offer a slice of hope.

My prayers and thoughts are with you all!

To donate to relief efforts for our friends in Houston and others impacted by the storm, please head over to KLove.com or follow this link. https://www.convoyofhope.org/donate/harvey-klove/

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The Truth About Insomnia

Insomnia.

Can I say that I hate it? Or is that too strong of a word? Ok, then. I hate it.

Insomnia is like a really bad friend, hanging out uninvited and for way too long. It reminds you constantly of your faults. It tells you lies about yourself and others. And it makes you feel like you are all alone. No one else is up right now. No one else cares. And even if they did they are too busy sleeping to be bothered with all your problems.

Not that I have any problems. And even if I did I’d cast all my anxieties on Christ like a good Christian should. Right?

The problem is that I cast them, but not far enough. I tell myself that I am praying when really all I am doing is complaining and trying to fix everything in my own strength. I am being still in body, but not in my mind, which ultimately is where all our battles are fought. And either won or lost depending on who is doing the fighting.

Me or Jesus.

See, the thing is, on nights like tonight when I am in a battle of my own will there’s no possible way for me to find rest because the battle isn’t mine to fight. 2 Chronicles: 15

I wish I could remember that verse sooner than 2am. I’d much rather have the whispers of that promise in my ear instead of what I’ve chosen to listen to tonight.

“You’re not good enough.”

I get to the edge of tears when I choose to listen to that lie. I want to give up on just about everything.

I should be a better friend.

A better wife.

I’m failing as a mother.

And heaven knows I am highly unqualified for this job God asked me to do. What was He thinking?!

He was thinking that I’d trust my Father and listen to Him when He speaks. He was hoping that on a sleepless night He’d save me some heartache and just let me sleep while He banished anything that tried to harm me. I’m pretty sure He is shaking His head right now and wishing I would just stop writing and go to bed while He takes over the night shift.

Yawn.

Ok. I get it. I’ll go back to bed now and stop trying to solve the world’s problems by myself.

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