When I Should Stop and Listen to Myself

So, my husband joked that for Mother's Day he got me a hernia surgery.  And we only laughed for a few seconds, because there was a shred of truth there. A hernia surgery allowed made me lay in bed for 3 straight days watching Chicago PD (I'm all caught up now) and reading two books and napping.  It wasn't all rainbows and unicorns (the pain is comparable to a c-section and did you know you use your core muscles for everything?? so stuff like vomiting, coughing, rolling over in bed...yeah.  Ouch.)

Anywho, I'm not sure what happened, but instead of invigorating me and feeling rested and a welcome break from the chaos my five children bring, I instead have been feeling a heavy pit of discouragement in the depths of my being.  These pits come around every so often.  They are marked by seasons where everything seems like a struggle - like normal, everyday things.  I wonder, I question, I beg, I plead...when will a sweet season come? When? It has felt like "survival" for so long, and I am ready to LIVE.

I cried out to the Lord, I cried out to my husband, and then the latter sent me to bed for the remainder of the night because I still felt like crap and that probably had the majority to do with my despair.  And I woke this morning to a text from one of my dearest friends who is just in the middle of dealing with some tough stuff.  And honestly, it's been tough for a while.  Really, tough doesn't even begin to describe it but it's not my story to tell. But she is in a place I know well, even if our paths to get us there are different, and she is just surviving.  Barely, it seems, some days.  But she longs to not just survive but to LIVE.

I am not one to retort cliches to my people when the tough crap comes. I have had that dealt my way many times and I know that even though others mean well, it falls in awkward ways on a weary and hurting soul.  So instead I blab on about tattoos and dried worms and then in the midst remind her she is awesome and brave and never ever alone.  She is allowed to feel all her feels and be afraid and not understand and tell God how freaking mad she is.  That is okay.  I have learned He can handle all that.  He can handle all our feels (have you read the Psalms?) and encourages us to feel all our feels right out at the foot of the very cross that defeated sin and death.  I tell her Jesus isn't going anywhere. He is making her brave by her choosing to breathe in and out.  Because there is always a choice.  It is brave to trust Christ when crap just doesn't make sense.  That is the very Spirit of God, being brave in us and for us. The easy thing would be to quit. To give up following Him.  To throw in the towel and rely on yourself and just make it through each day.  The brave thing is to allow God to live and move and have His being in you when the stuff hits the fan and you can not see the next step.

And then.  As I am speaking all that truth to her.  I hear it.  So very quiet and still in my own heart.

I should listen to myself.

Not 12 hours before, I poured my tears out over an issue I have cried over countless times.  Something I have zero control over, but I work and fight and agonize like it's all up to me.  But no matter how hard I try, I can not control the outcome.  And I just wish it were different. Plain and simple.  Sometimes I am mad at how it is turning out.  Sometimes I want to quit and walk away from parts of my life that requires me to be poured out so much.  It requires so much more of me than I actually have to give and since I can not see the next step, survival is all I can do at times.  But when the bible talks of peace, and abundant life, and joy everlasting I wonder, "What am I doing wrong?"  Then, today, in the midst of my precious friend's hurt, as I hurt right along with her, I believe with every ounce of my being that God has not left her.  He is not punishing her because that is not in line with His character.  He is a good God who loves completely. He is able to heal her sorrows and bring joy in the morning.  He is able.  I want her to know that she is never ever alone, because He isn't going anywhere.  And I want to encourage her to hold on to a living hope - one that is not dead - a Hope that is alive and kicking and fighting for her because she is precious and her story is beautiful.

And if I truly believe that for her, can't I also believe it for myself?