Dear Sarah,

 I won’t tell you to do things differently. I’m not here to give you advice. We both know that with the pain and suffering and messiness of life, there is also great beauty. You’ve always known that, somehow. Even as a child, you held out hope for what would come after. You had that annoying silver-lining view on life. You kept right on believing you would be fine, no matter what was going on around you.

I don’t want to take that away from you. I wouldn’t change that about you for anything. Your hope is what will carry you through.

But I will tell you this: It’s going to be hard.

It’s going to be much harder than you ever imagined anything could be. There will be darkness so thick you’re pretty sure it's impenetrable, and you’ll wonder if you will ever find light again. You will feel a hopelessness so heavy and tangible that it suffocates you. A loneliness so deep it becomes a physical ache.

You will find yourself standing on the edge of giving up. A place you never thought you could be. Not brave, tough, hopeful Sarah.

You will lose yourself. The Sarah you think you know will disappear piece by piece, very slowly, until you wake up one morning, look into the mirror, and wonder who is looking back at you. You will forget the things you once knew - without question, without doubt - about yourself.

You will get knocked down. Hard. And you will think about not getting back up again. You will think about closing your eyes and allowing yourself to drift into an endless sleep. Not because you're weak, but because you are tired. So tired.

I'm not telling you this to scare you or discourage you.

You will make choices that no one agrees with, that will set you apart. You will lose some friends and outgrow some people and push others away. It's okay. The best ones will find you again, or be there waiting for you when you find yourself again. Your choices will lead you right up to the door of pain and suffering, and you will step right in it.

But I need you to know that you don't give up.

You find a way to pick yourself up and keep crawling on until you can stand up straight again. You discover pieces of yourself along the way and begin to put together a new you. Someone better than before, someone even stronger.

You are beautiful now, even though you can't see it, and you will be even more beautiful for the stretch marks and scars to come.

When you find yourself in the dark, scared and alone, hold on to your hope and remember what I’m telling you. You’ll be okay. You’ll be better than okay. Someday.

I am writing this to you, my past, but also to you, my future. None of us ever arrive. Not in this lifetime, anyway. What's that old saying? "Life is a journey, not a destination." You always liked cliches because they're comforting, and they're usually true.

Love yourself.

Love,

Yourself

A really scary thing happened the other day. My husband shared my blog on his Facebook page. Then there was a tiny explosion here in my small and previously undiscovered corner of the internet. I resisted the urge to obsessively re-read everything I have ever written. 

It was scary because up until that point, I had invited very few people into this space. Four, to be exact. I did not even share it with my own parents. Those four people occasionally asked to share with another person and sometimes I'd get a drifter from Instagram. But that was it.

I was mostly okay with this because I just wanted to write. Anything. I made this space for me. And also, I was terrified. I am terrified. I have lived my whole life afraid of putting myself "out there" in any way that might matter. I have basically made being invisible a vocation.

But my fear was not even something I was aware of. I didn’t always know that choices I was making were a result of a fear that lived deep inside me. Fear of being wrong, of making mistakes, of embarrassment, not being good enough. So many fears controlling me all the time.

When I became a mother, it was so consuming that I didn't have to think about being anything else. It was even kind of a comfort to be so consumed by it. I put on the mantle of Mom and, for a while, forgot that I was even allowed to be anything else. I could be a Mom and I could be good at it and that was good enough for me.

Somewhere along the way I stopped feeling like a person who mattered. I think this is pretty common among mothers. We get caught up in taking care of everyone else and tend to forget about ourselves. So much so that a running joke for the last few years has been that I want to be the poop emoji for Halloween. It's one of those funny-because-it's-true jokes (or maybe it's only funny to me, laughing to keep from crying and all that). That's how I felt on the inside: like a pile of crap with a smile plastered on my face. 

I reached a point where I felt completely crushed down. I felt like I was drowning, very slowly sinking, unable to hold my head above water long enough for a full breath. I was holding myself together on the outside, but inside I was dying.

It wasn't just the loss of my sense of self. It was so many other things happening at the same time, so that it seemed like my world was falling apart around me.

"For innumerable evils have compassed me about: mine iniquities have taken hold upon me, so that I am not able to look up; they are more than the hairs of mine head: therefore my heart faileth me." -Psalm 40:12

The image I carry of myself during this time is of a little girl, crumpled and alone at the very bottom of a black hole, with bits of broken earth around her.

I had to sit down there for a while. I could have run away, I guess. Historically, I'm very good at running away when things get tough. But I had to sit with my pain and my fear and suffering and really get to know them. Because I didn't want to just run away, I wanted to heal.

My old self needed to be torn down, so that God could rebuild me from the ground up. (Cathedral, remember?)

This space is part of that new self. (A very small part - I'd say maybe God is up to my ankles in the rebuilding process, but who really knows. Maybe he will get to my knee caps and have to start all over.)

I have always been a writer, although I never would have been brave enough to call myself that before. Now that I can see my fear more clearly, I'm finding ways to undermine it. I'm making a conscious effort to be courageous. It's pretty scary.

"And he hath put a new song in my mouth..." - Psalm 40:3

Whithersoever Thou Goest

Today was hard. Like, the kind of hard that has you walking around with a lump in your throat and crying on the living room floor when it’s finally over. The kind of day that has you convinced you can’t do this, you’re the worst, you’re a terrible mother. I tried to draw strength from somewhere, but I was drawing from an empty cup.

Turn it upside down and shake it, not a drop would come out.

And I realized... I’ve been focusing on my health, what I eat, how I’m sleeping, taking care of my body and my mind. I've been trying to focus on relationships and connecting and speaking love to my kids and my husband (failed at this today - it felt like every word that came out of my mouth was venom).

Meanwhile, I’m not taking care of my Spirit. And if you aren't taking care of your Spirit, well, everything else is bound to fall apart. I’ve been going through the motions of reading my Bible every day, trying to get in a whole prayer before I fall asleep at night, but I haven't really been talking to God and I haven't really been sitting still long enough to listen for Him.

So here I am again. Wandering around in the wilderness. Because people never learn. 

I'm sitting here wondering how I can get up and do this all again tomorrow. And God whispers, "Ask me."

"...for the Lord thy God is with thee whithersoever thou goest." - Joshua 1:9

I heard Him earlier in a song that I had never heard before. I started crying at this part:

"Allow Me to introduce Myself again

I was with you every place you've ever been

I'm the One that held you when you couldn't stand

If you're wondering who can heal your brokenness, I can

I can"

-House On A Hill, Amanda Cook

He is with me. All I have to do is remember that my strength doesn't come from me, it comes from Him. All I have to do is ask. And I can face the challenges of tomorrow, and more importantly, I can be open to seeing the beauty in all this mess, which is something I can't do when I'm stuck inside my own head, wallowing around in my miry pit.

More than conquerors.

When I got to the end of writing my post last night, I was a little dumbfounded. A little bit overcome with emotion and gratitude. I didn't know whether to laugh or to cry or to jump up and down and shout.

I cannot always see the ways in which God has his hands on my life. In fact, I would say that I can hardly ever see it, rather I am operating mostly on blind faith and hope. But as I was writing last night, and my brain was sifting and working through my thoughts, I caught a glimpse. There was the briefest, fleeting kind of clarity. I could see how God had covered me. I, who am less than the least of all the saints.

I don't think that being covered by God means that he shields us from pain or difficulty or from terrible things. I think he gives us what we need to survive the pain and terrible things, so that we are not torn down completely, but can rise up and become something greater than we were.

"Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? shall tribulation, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword?
As it is written, For thy sake we are killed all the day long; we are accounted as sheep for the slaughter.
Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.

For I am persuaded that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor things present, nor things to come,

nor height, nor depth, nor any other creature, shall be able to separate us from the love of God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." -Romans 8:35-39

Sometimes I do feel like I am being killed all the day long.

But God is my refuge and strength, an ever present help in trouble. So. Not today, Satan.

Beset

I have lived most of my life thinking I just am what I am. That's a weird statement. Let me try to explain. I think of myself as a decent person. Not perfect, but you know, pretty good. I've always considered myself to have a strong moral compass, a deep sense of right and wrong. In general, I make pretty good decisions (obviously we can't win 'em all). And one of my greatest strengths, in my own opinion, has always been resilience. I might go down, but I don't stay there.

I always thought these things were just a part of who I am, inherently. The way I actually used to think of it was that I was this way "all by myself." I did not attribute any of my qualities (good or bad) to God or anyone else. Not even myself, really. I was just born this way.

And that may be partially true. I now know that everyone is born with their own unique personality and temperament. (There are, of course, innumerable ways experiences and circumstances can affect us as we grow, but that's a whole other thing.) It's there from the beginning: we're whole people as soon as we're born.

But I also now know that I have a creator, and I wasn't just born this way, but I was made this way.

So it was never me, it was God. I was never anything "all by myself." God was always with me, even when I didn't know it, or couldn't see it, or chose not to believe it.

Thou hast beset me behind and before. The "archaic" definition of beset is "be covered with." He covered me behind (in the past) and before (in front of = the future). I was and am covered with and by God.

"O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.

Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.

Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.

For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether.

Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me." - Psalm 139:1-5

"Give thanks: for his mercy endureth forever!" - Psalm 136 (Exclamation point mine. It needed to be said with feeling!)

"For none of us liveth to himself, and no man dieth to himself.

For whether we live, we live unto the Lord; and whether we die, we die unto the Lord: whether we live therefore, or die, we are the Lord's." -Romans 14:7-8

Who am I?

"O Lord, thou hast searched me, and known me.

Thou knowest my downsitting and mine uprising, thou understandest my thought afar off.

Thou compassest my path and my lying down, and art acquainted with all my ways.

For there is not a word in my tongue, but, lo, O Lord, thou knowest it altogether.

Thou hast beset me behind and before, and laid thine hand upon me." - Psalm 139:1-5

Sometimes when things are especially calm and the kids are off playing a lot and no one needs me for much, I feel a little lost. Even though someone calling my name every 5 minutes of the day is utterly exhausting, it's also a little bewildering when someone is not calling my name every 5 minutes.

When you stay home with kids and your life pretty much revolves around caring for them, you tend to lose yourself a bit. Combine that loss of self to motherhood with the kind of life events that make you question everything you know and believe: hello, identity crisis.

I've always felt that my kids are my important work. I don't know what else I could possibly be doing that could be as important as this. And then some time in the last year, that thought began to concern me. Not that nothing else could be as important, but I realized I had no idea what else I could do. Period. 

What skills do I have? What do I enjoy doing if it is just me (sleeping doesn't count)? Who am I even??

I had no idea, really.

In the last several days, I've had to talk about things that I never talk about, things I barely even think about. I've had to look as far back into my memories as I can go and examine them in a way I never have before, a way that makes me doubt what I thought I knew (not necessarily a bad thing).

And that question just keeps echoing in my head. Who am I?

It's all a bit unsettling. But Psalm 139 has brought me a lot of comfort. The first few verses have been sitting here in this draft page and I have been reading them every day while I try to figure out how to articulate the things going through my mind.

Psalm 139 is all about how God knows us, every single piece and particle. How he formed us in our mothers' wombs. How he knows where we've been and where we're going. How he can see us even when we think we've shrouded ourselves in darkness.

I might still be figuring myself out, but God knows exactly who I am. All I have to do is listen for that still, small voice and let him help me become who I'm supposed to be.

"And the Lord, he it is that doth go before thee; he will be with thee, he will not fail thee, neither forsake thee: fear not, neither be dismayed." -Deuteronomy 31:8

In the Midst

"Hear my cry, O God; attend unto my prayer.

From the end of the earth will I cry unto thee, when my heart is overwhelmed: lead me to the rock that is higher than I.

For thou hast been a shelter for me, and a strong tower from the enemy." -Psalm 61:1-3

I used to find the Psalms a little bit hard to get through, but the more I read them, the more beautiful they become to me and the more I love them. There is a lot of praising God, but there's also a whole lot of crying out and despair. I like that. Those psalmists were keeping it real. No social media picture perfect stuff.

Life is messy and hard. Everyone's life is messy and hard. We're all going through something.

I wanted to write tonight and I prayed first like I always do, asking God to give me the words, to speak through me to whoever might read this. But the longer I sit here, the more I realize: I don't have anything profound or new or moving to say. I really just want to share some of the words that are giving me hope right now.

"For I reckon the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." -Romans 8:18

"God is in the midst of her; she shall not be moved: God shall help her..." -Psalms 46:5

"The battle is not yours, but God's." -2 Chronicles 20:15

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called Life.

There is hope.

“Fear not, little flock...” - Jesus (Luke 12:32)

Well, it's February already. Pretty soon it'll be Christmas again.

Here's where I stand with my personal goals: I haven't written every day, but I have written something most days. I have done my new face care routine at least once a day, but most days not the recommended twice. I have noticed some lightening of my shingles scars, but these big ole bags under my eyes aren't going anywhere yet. Who's surprised, really? I've been perpetually sleep deprived for almost 12 years (no one tells you that some 2/3/4 year olds wake up more often at night than infants or that some kids will always rise at the butt crack of dawn and expect you to be as ready to party as they are). The bags are here to stay.

However, I have diligently spent time praying and reading the Bible every single day! And it has made a world of difference. Did everything I believed to be wrong in my life get fixed? No. Was every day perfect? NOPE. Was I magically the epitome of mother? Haha, no.

But I was able to have hope (even if just a tiny thread) and keep looking forward (or skyward from the bottom of the pit) on some really hard days, when before, I might have just gone back to bed in the middle of the day and cried myself into a nap. Or I might have stayed stuck in a dark stupor for days or weeks. I was able to take my worries and anxieties and lay them at Jesus' feet and know that he and God can handle it, when before I would have tried to "handle" it all by myself, all the way to a burnout.

By looking to God first, I have been able to order my days a little bit better, and to live a little closer to the way he is calling me to live.

And that's the goal, right?

I got the tip to pray Psalm 143:8 first thing in the morning from a book I'm reading, Hello Mornings by Kat Lee. It is really the perfect prayer to start the day with.

"Cause me to hear thy lovingkindness in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee."

I don't just pray it in the morning, either. Sometimes, I find myself using it as a breath prayer (deep breath in, first line, breathe out, second line, and so on - good for calming down). Sometimes, when I don't know what else to say, I'll just pray a piece of it: I lift up my soul to you, I lift up my soul to you, I lift up my soul to you. And trust that the Holy Spirit will take care of the rest.

It goes hand in hand with another piece of scripture I like to pray:

"Thy will be done."

Not my will, but God's.

Father Tim, a character from one of my favorite book series (the Mitford books), calls that "the prayer that never fails." 

Under Attack

A week ago, I was dangling on the edge of the hole. I was scrabbling around for a toehold, holding on to anything I could. Praying didn't seem to be working. Reading the Bible didn't seem to be helping. Everything seemed really hard and hopeless and there was a tightness in my chest that isn't usually there. And I just felt like I was drowning.

By Wednesday night I was sitting under a blanket in a dark room, desperately crying and desperately crying out to God for help. I felt so, so alone.

Usually when I'm in the deep, dark hole... it's just me. And Husband is trying to throw me a rope or a life vest or build me a boat (because sometimes it's not a hole but a deep ocean, hence the drowning). But this week has been different. Suddenly my husband didn't seem friendly to me. He was not my voice of reason, my encourager, the cool and calm to my fiery and fierce. He felt a little bit like... an enemy. And he seems like he might be in his own pit.

We were angry and not speaking much. I began thinking some absurd thoughts, convinced that he was out to get me somehow. The things that were going through my head were insane. That is best way I can think to describe it. I can't even recall exactly what I was thinking, but it was crazy. My mind was hazy and dark and swirling madness.

Husband called me during this thought storm and it was enough of a distraction to get me out of my head. It was like I blinked and woke up from a weird dream.

I texted him a few minutes later, "I think we're under attack." He knew exactly what I meant and responded, "Absolutely are under attack."

Like many things, I never really understood this idea of Satan attacking a person. I've seen more than one post on Facebook recently that says something like, "I must be doing something right 'cause the devil sure is out to get me!" I always kind of thought people were being dramatic or just trying to get a few thumbs ups. Like, I don't know if a bad day qualifies as Satan being out to get you, guys.

But yesterday, I was being attacked. From the inside. Those thoughts were not mine, they were not me. For a minute, I even thought I was losing my mind. I hesitate to even write about this because I know how it will sound to some people, how it would've sounded to me before. (I even did a little bit of googling "spiritual attack" before I sat down to write tonight. It all looked pretty hokey to me. Says Judgey McJudgerson.)

As soon as I had a minute to myself (hours later), I opened my Bible for my daily reading. Immediately:

"Submit yourselves therefore to God. Resist the devil and he will flee." -James 4:7

I prayed this verse over and over for a minute or two. And the sense of release was immediate. (I didn't say relief on purpose. Although I did feel relieved, I felt more like I had been held captive and was set free.)

The next thing I read was like God was speaking to me in a loud, firm voice:

"Fear not: for I have redeemed thee, I have called thee by name; thou art mine." - God (Isaiah 43:1)

And then very gently:

"When thou passest through the waters, I will be with thee; and through the rivers, they shall not overflow thee: when thou walkest through the fire, thou shalt not be burned; neither shall the flame kindle upon thee." - God (Isaiah 43:2)

And the peace that surpasses all understanding filled me. At least for a little while.

"He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings." -Psalm 40

I write to you now from the bottom of the pit. My pit's probably different than your pit and I might be in a different pit next month. If you can see the sunshine from where you are, hallelujah and soak it in... but then bring snacks and a flashlight candle over here.

I don't have a lot to say. I had to go back and read some of the things I've written lately, just to see if I was really that hopeful, to see if any of it made sense. Because sometimes it feels like nothing makes sense. Sometime it's hard to believe there is any kind of plan or purpose. Sometimes it feels like there is no hope.

My flesh and my heart fail. I've already forgotten that I'm supposed to be a cathedral and I think I'm a tomb. Humans are flawed, fickle, sinful creatures. Didn't the Hebrews wander around in the wilderness for 40 years before they made it to the promised land? Because they doubted God. Every step of the way, God provided them with what they needed, and yet they continued to doubt. I remember reading that story and thinking, "Why?! Why do they continue to make the same mistake over and over and over? They could have been there by now!"

Yep.

Eventually, I came to realize that, wait a minute... I do the same dumb stuff over and over too...

I don't really want to wander in the "desert" for 40 years. And even though I don't feel hopeful, I try to remember that there is hope. 

"In my distress, I cried unto the Lord, and he heard me."-Psalm 120:1

"For we would not, brethren, have you ignorant of our trouble which came to us, that we were pressed out of measure, above strength, insomuch that we despaired even of life:

But we had the sentence of death in ourselves, that we should not trust in ourselves, but in God which raiseth the dead:

Who delivered us from so great a death, and doth deliver: in whom we trust that he will yet deliver us." -2 Corinthians 1:8-9

"For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face: now I know in part, but then shall I know even as also I am known." -1 Corinthians 13:12

"I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me." -Philippians 4:13

Even this.

Why art thou cast down?

"Why art thou cast down, O my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me? hope thou in God: for I shall yet praise him for the help of his countenance." -Psalm 42:5

I used to have this friend. I think of her quite often now, but haven't seen or spoken to her in several years. When we were teenagers, she was often quiet and sad. We (the rest of our group of friends and myself) always thought she was moody, that she was pouty. We often told her to just cheer up, not to be a party pooper, have fun.

Looking back, I can see clearly that she had depression. I didn't know anything about depression back then. I was naive enough to think that you could just choose to feel better, if you wanted to. I think some people thought she was just seeking attention.

It was not until years later, when I experienced postpartum depression for the first time, that I finally understood how she must have felt. We were horrible to her. She must have been so sad and angry and hurt by us. I wish I could go back in time and hug her and just sit with her, instead of trying to force her to feel something she probably desperately wanted to feel but couldn't.

I myself have had someone close to me tell me they believed that I could choose to feel better. I wanted to murder them. On the spot.

I can only speak from my own experience with depression. I think that, though everyone affected probably shares some things in common, we all experience it differently and perceive it differently because we are all different, unique people.

There are a couple of ways we have acknowledged my depression around here, although it doesn't get a lot of air time. I am trying to get past it, but I still feel a lot of shame. Some people are under the misconception that I'm a strong, unflappable mother... and I kind of like it that way. But the truth is I am deeply flawed, just like everyone else in the world. I have to remind myself that it doesn't define me, it's just a part of me. 

When it is bad, my husband sometimes says I have gone "Dark Sarah." Or on a bad day, I will sometimes acknowledge it by saying "Deep, dark hole in here," and point at my head. That is how it feels to me. Like I am in a deep, deep, dark hole that there is no hope of clawing my way out of. Sometimes it feels like I am suffocating. Or drowning. There is no hope for anything.

Depression tells me I am a terrible mother. That my kids deserve better. That it would be easier if I just wasn't here.

No one would ever choose to feel that way. No one would ever choose to feel the way I feel when I am being sucked down into depression.

It really rankles me when people suggest you can "pray it away" too.

Today, I found myself on the edge of the hole, holding on to the cliff with just my bare fingertips. I thought it came on suddenly, but after a meltdown and some good old-fashioned sobbing in the bathroom and some introspection, I realized the signs were there yesterday, maybe even earlier in the week.

I'm not at rock bottom, so I'm holding on to hope that I can drag myself back out of this one. And believe me, I have been praying. Praying helps. So does acknowledging it. So does taking care of myself (which is hard when my job is to take care of everyone else). Remembering to take my antidepressants helps a lot.

But praying reminds me that I am not alone. That I can put my hope in God  and I will yet praise him, because he will help me. 

Before I sat down to write, I had my evening quiet time, which is when I finish reading the day's Bible verses and any devotionals I am in. After that, I flipped back in my planner to look up some verses that struck a chord with me last time I found myself in the hole. I really like this one:

"Turn thee unto me, and have mercy upon me; for I am desolate and afflicted.

The troubles of my heart are enlarged: O bring thou me out of my distresses." -Psalm 25:16-17

It's the desperate prayer of a desperate person! I love it, because I'm desperate.

O Lord, be not far from me.

Noise

One of our kids screamed for almost an hour straight today. I am not exaggerating even a little bit. I am talking full on, relentless, non-stop screaming. Sometimes it was a high pitched "I'm so angry there are no words" scream. Sometimes she was screaming "I don't want to get dressed" over and over. Sometimes she was just wailing. But it. Was. Continuous.

It is really hard to focus on anything with that level of noise in the background. Add to that the normal chatter and play of everyday (today the play was "cavemen" featuring a very loud and convincing 10 year old as head caveman, complete with his own homemade spear), frequent requests for everything under the sun, reminders to do school work and jobs, keeping up with my own to-do's. It's a lot for one brain.

Eventually, she stopped screaming. And she did get dressed. But she sort of set the tone for the rest of the day. The whole day was just kind of loud and crazy.

Some days are just like that. And they're hard... especially for someone like me, who is highly introverted. Days like this are just completely draining. I get towards the end and it's like, if one more person talks to me, I will just die.

But it got me to thinking about how the noise of life gets in the way of my relationship with God. Or, I let it get in the way, anyway. I don't necessarily mean literal noise, like my screaming, squealing, grunting cavemen kids. But all the things that stress us out or weigh us down. All the things that occupy space in our brains, like what we need from the store, what we're going to eat for dinner, who needs to be where and at what time, et cetera, et cetera. This list could go on forever. Sometimes we let all that stuff get in-between us and God.

I started my day with prayer. And I did my Bible reading during quiet time and after the kids went to bed. But I didn't really feel connected to any of it. And God feels kind of far away right now. But is it just me?

I had a hard day and I'm tired. I'm feeling kind of down and I think my first instinct, or maybe it is a habit now, is to turn inward and brood, to just check out.

So, I went through the motions of praying and reading the Bible, but was I only doing it halfheartedly?

Seek ye first the kingdom of God. This was in my reading today and it keeps going through my head as I write. It's really easy, in the busyness of everyday life, with all the people and things we are responsible to and for, to turn our hearts from God and lose sight of him.

Instead of seeking God, I seek out solutions to various problems. I seek out better schedules, better food, better parenting practices. I seek out more quiet, more solitude. Sometimes I seek escape.  And it's just an endless cycle, never getting better.

But if I remember to seek God first, then I can just rest... because it is in God that I can find hope and peace.

"But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." - Matthew 6:33

"My help cometh from the Lord, which made heaven and earth.

He will not suffer thy foot to be moved: he that keepeth thee will not slumber." -Psalm 121: 2-3

God's mercy and grace today is that I can start over right now. That although I am not perfect, I can still be worthy.

Fear and Anxiety

Sometimes I can't sleep at night because I am filled with worry for my kids. This happens more often now as they are getting older. I stopped watching the news regularly when my oldest was a baby, because it seemed like I only ever heard stories about terrible things happening to kids. But the terrible things are still out there, whether I watch the news or not, and I still have to hear about them, and they fill me with fear.

Back in the fall when we were camping in Alabama, phones not set to silent started going off in the middle of the night: Amber alert. A little girl had gone missing. She was in the news the next day. And a few weeks later I read that she had been found in a dumpster. She was only 3.

I am part of a parenting group on Facebook that is made up mostly of foster and adoptive parents. Parents post everyday, seeking advice and help for different situations with their kids. These parents have seen and dealt with unimaginable things, repercussions from the trauma their kids have experienced. Sometimes a parent will share something truly disturbing and it stays in your head and makes you wonder. How can you even deal with that? How can everyone survive this? How can these kids, this family, ever be okay? What if this happened in my family?

It is a scary world out there and to me, gets scarier every day as my kids creep closer and closer to being out there in it. And those questions sometimes keep me awake at night. I begin to imagine all the horrible things that could happen and I start to panic. How can I protect them? How can I make sure this or that never happens?

This happened to me the other night. I was just lying in bed, silently freaking out, my mind racing, stomach feeling a little queasy.

The truth is... I can't protect them from everything. I hate that, but it's true. Sure, there are precautions a parent can take, some things you could do. But none of it is a guarantee.

One of the hardest things for me in my journey towards God, was realizing that nothing in my life belongs to me. It all belongs to God. And even though it all belongs to him, I still have to loosen my clutch and give everything to God. My husband was the first person to talk to me about this. He said he gave everything to God except this one thing that was his, this one secret thing he wanted to hold onto. But until he gave that one last thing up, nothing could really be right. God couldn't do the work he needed to do, until Husband had given him everything.

I had a sneaking suspicion that my thing that I tried to hold onto might be my kids.

One of my favorite authors/speakers, Cindy Rollins (mother of 9) says: "Part of the sanctification of motherhood is learning to trust God with our children."

This is hard, I think especially for mothers because we tend to think we can't trust anyone but ourselves to do things right. And also, realizing that we are not in control, is terrifying.

When I feel that terror, that panic, rising... I am learning to pray about it. I am only lately realizing how important prayer is. I used to not be able to understand people when they talked about praying before they made decisions, or about reaching out to other people to pray for them. But the more I pray, the more I see how vital it is. I begin to understand how life-changing it can be.

Last night, when I was feeling anxious, a Psalm came to mind. Psalm 37. I probably have read it sometime in the past, but I had no actual memory of reading it or any of the words. But it had been mentioned in a book I'm reading. All they said about it was that the first two words contained a sermon by themselves. So, because I had no other place to start, I decided to look it up.

And of course. Of course.

Summed up and very condensed, Psalm 37 tells us:

"Fret not...

Trust in the Lord...

Delight thyself also in the Lord...

Commit thy way unto the Lord...

Rest in the Lord."

Don't worry, trust God, delight in Him, commit to Him, REST in Him. Psalm 37 is actually kind of long and says a lot, but that was what I needed for now.

It's hard not to worry, so I pray to God to take away my worry and my anxiety. I ask him for help to give him all the things in my life, especially my kids. And do you know what usually happens?

Peace that surpasses all understanding.

God did not give us a spirit of fear, but of power, and love, and of a sound mind (2 Timothy 1:2). I am not completely helpless, so with the power I do have here on earth, and with love, and a sound mind to make good decisions, arm myself and my children with knowledge, I can do my best to protect my children. And the rest I can give to God and trust him.

"Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." - Philippians 4:6,7

We seem to be in a period of calm. There is still bickering, tantrums, toddler defiance, crazy 4 year old antics, frustration, exasperation. All the regular things you experience with kids (no matter how many you have), but at a normal level. Not cranked up to 11 like it has been.

It's kind of harder to write when things are going well. Every good story needs conflict, right?

But I feel light today. Airy. Like I can breathe. For a long time now, I have felt crushed down underneath the weight of all these things going on around me, but mostly inside me. Stress, anxiety, depression, guilt, pressure.

Today I can stand up straight again.

I'm learning how to make bread. I didn't even know I could do that! I honestly didn't think I had it in me to learn a new skill like that. There are so many things I have thought I could never do. So many things seemed too complicated, too time consuming, above my skill level, just not something I could do.

Refinishing old furniture/making music/making art/cooking is fine for you, but I can't even go to the bathroom in peace, much less take up a hobby that requires any kind of attention.

I haven't known how to be anything other than Mom, or that I even could be anything else. Or even if I should be.

But God. Lately, God is giving me a new perspective of everything, really, but also... of myself.

"There is a God-shaped vacuum in the heart of each man which cannot be satisfied by any created thing but only by God the creator, made known through Jesus Christ." - Pascal

Now that I know I have a God-shaped vacuum and I'm not trying to fill it with anything but God, and I'm not trying to hold on to control of my life with white knuckles, I feel like I have a new kind of confidence that I have never felt before. Confidence to be the mother I am called to be, and maybe other things too. Maybe a breadmaker. Maybe a writer. Maybe someday one of those homesteading people with goats and chickens and food I grow myself!

Maybe still "just" Mom, and I feel good about that.

Sometimes, the passing of time is marked not by birthdays or changing dates, but by events. A baby starts crawling, then walking, and then they are toddlers who are running away from you. One day a toilet flushes and a kid walks out of the bathroom and it hits you that they aren't wearing diapers anymore. You go to pick someone up, but all of a sudden they're too heavy for you.

Yesterday, two little boys were riding bikes with training wheels. Only a few weeks ago, one of those little boys had to get off the bike and walk it over every bump in the road because he was afraid of falling.

Today, the training wheels are gone, and they are speeding away from me in the street.

I was immensely proud and happy for them, but as I watched them go, I was also a little sad. This is the beginning, I thought. This is where, little by little, they come back to me less often than they are going away. They are little boys now and Mama is the center of the universe, but that won't last much longer. I know that's the way it's supposed to be. You love them and raise them up until they are ready to be out in the universe on their own. And you hope that you're at least an orbiting moon in their lives.

Look at big sister: wasn't she a baby yesterday? Soon she'll be a teenager. It doesn't happen overnight, but sometimes it feels like it does.

It's easy to forget in the middle of a chaotic day/year/life that this season, whatever season you're in, doesn't last forever. Before you know it, it's all over, and you're wondering where the time went.

"Whereas ye know not what shall be on the morrow. For what is your life? It is even a vapour, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away." -James 4:14

Heaps of Grace

This morning, I woke up at 6. Not on my own. Not because I set my alarm for 6. But by an angry child on the other side of the house yelling at the dog. Sometime in the middle of the night, she had chewed up a beloved book. I heard him put her in her crate and yell a few more colorful words.

I immediately thought, "Great. There the goes the whole day."

I looked up in the dark and said the Lord's Prayer. It helps me to focus my mind. Then I prayed Psalm 143:8 because it's what I needed: to feel God's love, and to know what to do. And then I just prayed. I asked for wisdom, for God's eyes to see my family with, for his words to speak to them.

Moments later, that child appeared in my doorway. "Mom, Nora chewed up my book!" His voice cracked a little, like he might cry. I said a few empathetic words, nothing special, pretty sure it was "Oh, no! Aw, man! That sucks!" With feeling.

And then I waited, expecting a meltdown. He said a couple more things about his book and how it was ruined, but then he went back to his room quietly.

I was continuously surprised throughout the day at how much more peaceful things were than they have been. For a little while, I tried to figure out what was different. What could have caused this change. Is it the slightly different routine? A better order to our day? Is it more outside time? Is it simply because I feel better so everything seems better? Did we finally do something right that connected?

Some of those things might be true. Some of them might be partially responsible in some way for the change. Maybe.

I know it's not me, though. I would screw it all up, if it was up to me. I spent yesterday just mad, with my little dark cloud following me around, raining on my head every now and then.

I am where I am by the grace of God. We make it to the end of each day and wake up every morning by the grace of God. If I do anything right at all, it is the grace of God, y'all.

"For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace." - John 1:16

"Unto me, who am less than the least of all saints, is this grace given..." - Ephesians 3:8

When I finally caught up on the daily office, much of today's scripture was about praising God. I was reminded of a book I'm reading, where the main character muses (and he's actually quoting someone else but I can't remember all of it, also I'm paraphrasing): "What if God took away all the things we forget to be thankful for? Would we be armless and legless, without the people we love?"

"But in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving..." -Philippians 4:6

 Basically, we got to give credit where credit is due and remember to thank God for the heaps of grace.

"Not unto us, O Lord, not unto us, but unto thy name give glory, for thy mercy, and for thy truth's sake.

... Praise the Lord." - Psalm 115

And thank you, Jesus, for this calm in the storm.

"My flesh and my heart faileth: but God is the strength of my heart, and my portion forever."

-Psalm 73:26

Yesterday, I slept right through my alarm. This morning I hit snooze twice (progress). I'm on Day 9 of Whole30 and I was totally tired of all the healthy foods today (first world problems). I went to bed early instead of writing last night (no regrets). We got most of our school done every day this week. I went running three times.

I'm listing all of this out for my own benefit. After some very difficult days in this house, today I felt... deflated. Defeated. Discouraged. It's hard to keep up morale when it feels like there is no progress being made, so I needed to remind myself that a little progress is still progress. These things are all trivial, though. The real issue is much bigger than whether or not I can wake up at 7, but much harder to put into words. So I made a list of smaller things to give me a little pick-me-up.

I've been wondering today about keeping faith and trusting God during extremely difficult times. I thought I had lost my faith last year. Or maybe I was just angry at God. I remember sitting in church one day, listening to the sermon, just seething with anger because I didn't feel like any of it was true for me. I looked at Husband and I knew the sermon was speaking to him and that made me even angrier, that he could be getting filled with hope while I was just... dying inside.

Sometimes it's just downright hard to believe that all the things are working together for good. But if we don't put our hope in God, what hope is there???

I was immediately drawn to the verse above from Psalm 71. It connected to all the things I've been thinking about this week. On my own, I will give up. I will get tired. I will feel defeated and hopeless and quit. I am not enough, but He is. He gives power to the faint (is my new mantra). He is the strength of my heart because my heart alone is not strong enough.

"Rejoicing in hope; patient in tribulation; continuing instant in prayer;" - Romans 12:12

I am not enough.

One of the hardest things to do, for me, is to look into the face of anger that is radiating from one of my kids, and keep my cool. To listen to whatever words are spewing from their mouth or to catch their hands before they can hit, and not spit my own fire back at them, is really hard.

Sometimes people will say something to me about how calm I am, or how patient. I'm baffled. I feel like my eyes are just question marks and exclamation points as I look back at them, trying to figure out how to respond. I often don't feel calm. Or patient. Sometimes, really awful things go through my head in the heat of the moment.

I was thinking about this earlier tonight when I left the house after getting really frustrated with one of the kids. I was starting to stew in my anger and I could feel it kind of like a cloud settling down on me. And then a little tiny thought bubble appeared in my head, very subtle, I can barely remember it now, something about grace.

Grace again.

It was something about... being able to know that my thoughts were wrong and I didn't have to act on them. That was God's grace for me right then. It's easy to lash out. It's a lot harder to reign it in, and respond to people with love. (Which I didn't do right before I left, by the way.)

This morning, I woke up before 7. I washed my face and got back in bed (sitting up) to pray and read the Bible. I was ready for the day before the kids got up. A rarity. Every morning someone comes to the bedroom door and asks if it's time to get up and I say, often more than once, "Not yet. In a few minutes." But that's beside the point.

A few hours later, I was thankful for that quiet morning time with God, because I knew that it was carrying me through a difficult morning. I was staying calm while some of my people were raging. I didn't yell. I didn't get angry. I didn't threaten. I didn't punish.

I was so proud of myself. And I kept remembering that quiet time with God, and telling myself: I am not enough, but He is. (That was in one of my devotionals yesterday.) And He was giving me what I needed this morning for all of us to make it through.

I can't be perfect all the time. Or ever. Let's face it, I triumphed this morning, but I had completely devolved by dinner. I live firmly in the Good Enough category of Mom, sometimes World's Okayest. But I believe that God fills in the gaps if I remember to trust in Him. I am not enough, but He is.

"And the Lord, he it is that doth go before thee; he will be with thee, he will not fail thee, neither forsake thee: fear not, neither be dismayed." - Deuteronomy 31:8

"Be careful for nothing; but in every thing by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God.

And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding, shall keep your hearts and minds through Christ Jesus." - Philippians 4: 6,7

Be still, and know that I am God... Psalms 46:10

I got a lot done today. I fed the masses. I did 3 loads of laundry. We did all our schoolwork. We went to open gym. I exercised. I took a shower. We got outside. My robot vacuum vacuumed for me.

The kids got along pretty well and overall it was good day... until bedtime. But we survived that and everyone else is asleep now.

Here is one thing I didn't do:

I didn't wake up early to pray and read the Bible. Ok, so I never have done that, but I want to and I even set an alarm for this morning.

Not only did I not have my God time this morning, I didn't have it at quiet time either because I went for a run on the treadmill instead.

And, well, now here I sit at almost 11 P.M. staring at this screen. I did do my Bible reading eventually. But I did not feel that connected to it, what with all the interruptions from not going to bed people. I did pray before I opened this computer to write. My fingers are moving but am I really saying anything of value?

I feel pretty convicted about how I should start my day tomorrow, though. I know everyday can't be sunshine and roses, but I feel like I would be in a better place right now if I had made time for God first.

I'm setting my alarm again. 7 A.M. My intentions are to pray Psalm 143: 8 (Cause me to hear hear thy lovingkindess in the morning; for in thee do I trust: cause me to know the way wherein I should walk; for I lift up my soul unto thee), read a short Bible study or maybe the morning office, and do a 5 minute yoga video. Yaaaaay, ambitions.

This morning I slept through 11 minutes of the phone vibrating next to me on the nightstand, so I guess we'll see how it all unfolds.

Sundays are for rest, and some other things.

I decided not to write yesterday. It was a nice, slow Sunday and I was tired last night. The good kind of tired, like ready to snuggle down under the covers and read a good book and drift off to sleep early... Not completely drained and ready to crawl under the covers and sob until I pass out from sheer exhaustion.

I am going to make Sundays optional for writing, sometimes you need a day off. I often take Sundays off from laundry too, which is why there was a mountain of it this morning.

We went to church yesterday and I was glad for it. Husband and I agreed a while back that we would go to church every Sunday that we were in town (instead of haphazardly showing up with only 1/3 of our family) and there was no illness to keep us home. We skipped last Sunday and I felt a little weird about it. The whole day seemed a little off, but that could have been all the irritable people living here. We have one child who always fights us on going to church and sometimes it seems like such a hassle getting everyone out the door, but I was so glad we went. It seemed to me to complete the day.

So, tomorrow is the 7th day of 2020! I am happy to report that I am keeping up with my goals so far. In fact, spending time reading the Bible has become something I really look forward to. I haven't managed to wake myself up early yet, but I sit down usually in the middle of the day and read and journal some things that stand out to me. There were a lot today.

But I feel compelled to write a bit of "poetry" inspired by one... So, here goes, you’re welcome and I’m sorry:

Poop smeared all over the walls,
The bed, the floor,
The clothes, the curtains.
Count it all Joy.
(It'll be funny someday.)

A fist fight outside the bathroom door
When I just sat down to
Scroll Facebook 
Watch a few Insta-stories
Read parenting emails
Go.

Count it all Joy.

Simultaneous breakfast requests
When I've already fixed the food
And I'm just trying get some coffee in me.
Happy screeching mixed with
Tantruming toddler
Mixed with a furious tween.

Count it all Joy.

Five little(ish) people all crowded around,
Snuggling in,
Slapping each other's heads out of the way
So they can all see the book.
Two little boys holding hands,
Two big kids skipping down the road,
Six bikes zooming past me at the park,
Hugs, and I love yous,
And "I'm ready to pierce my ears."

Long days, short years.

Joy.

"My brethren, count it all joy when ye fall into divers temptations;

Knowing this, that the trying of your faith worketh patience."

-James 1:2

Grace.

"Grace treats us like we already are what we fear we'll never become." - Beth Moore

"And he said unto me, My grace is sufficient for thee: for my strength is made perfect in weakness. Most gladly therefore will I rather glory in my infirmities, that the power of Christ may rest upon me." - 2 Corinthians 12:9

"Let us therefore come boldly unto the throne of grace, that we may obtain mercy, and find grace to
help in time of need." - Hebrews 4:16

I don't have much to say. We had a long, good, full day that involved a trip to the beach, ear piercings, a hair cut, lots of PBJs and lots of time in the car.

I'm thinking about grace right now because it came up in a book I was reading this morning. The author was talking about giving ourselves grace so that we can "move forward in freedom."

That particular book is about building a morning routine and that part about grace is about not giving up when life, as it will, interrupts.

"We can follow the formula: guilt + grace = growth. Let's allow our guilt to trigger a reminder that we are not living the way we value and then accept the grace that God offers us so we can move forward in freedom." - Kat Lee

Now, she's not talking about the kind of guilt we beat ourselves over the head with for days (or is that just me?) or longer. She's saying, feel the guilt, and use it NOT to make ourselves feel worse, but to remind us of what we are striving for, then let it go, and keep working towards it. Move forward in freedom: freedom from the guilt. Freedom from thinking we have to do it (anything) perfectly or a certain way. Freedom from the lie that we aren't good enough, that we are incapable.

And God's grace... is freedom from the burden of thinking we have to do it (whatever it may be) all by ourselves. And that's something to be thankful for.

Grace be to you, and peace from God the Father, and from our Lord Jesus Christ.

On Walking Worthy

Feelings of hopelessness and purposelessness are sometimes just a part of living with depression. I have spent a lot of time in the last few years feeling like I am just wandering around aimlessly in my own life.

I was in the car today, listening to the kids grumble at eachother, and I could feel it starting to drag me down. Constantly trying to help little people manage their emotions and navigate their relationships is exhausting. I was starting to sink. And I was driving along thinking I just wanted to go home and do nothing. I wanted to send everyone to quiet time and then disconnect from my life.

I felt the same way at bed time last night and a lot of nights. I couldn't wait for them to go to bed so I didn't have to think about how to respond to all the things, I didn't have to hear my name anymore, or make sure everyone is doing their jobs or bathing or being read to or not hitting. And then when they were in bed, all I did was mindlessly scroll social media or check my email, in silence and mindless stupor, until I finally dragged myself out of it to do my daily writing.

But I had a sort of... epiphany, in the car today.

I've been thinking about one of my favorite passages of scripture. I was thinking about it while I was writing last night and have been stewing on it in the back of my mind all day.

"I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called, 

with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, 

eager to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.

There is  one body and one Spirit -- just as you were called to the one hope that belongs to your call --

one Lord, one faith, one baptism,

one God and Father of all, who is over all and through all and in all.

But grace was given to each one of us according to the measure of Christ's gift.

Therefore it says, 'When he ascended on high he led a host of captives, and he gave gifts to men.'

...

And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers,

to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ,

until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ,

so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes.

Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ,

from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love."

- Ephesians 4:1-16 (ESV instead of KJV today)

There is a lot to unpack in that passage, but it is the first verse that kept going through my head. I therefore, a prisoner for the Lord, urge you to walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which you have been called. 

What does it mean to be called, to have a calling? How do I walk worthy? AM I worthy? How can I "walk in a manner worthy of the calling to which I have been called" if I shut down as soon as possible? If I check out, if I am just carried along on the whims of all my feelings and my kids' feelings, and the lies my enemy is telling me?

I can't. I can't become who I want to be or who God wants me to be unless I am actively trying, actively praying, actively participating in my own life, not just waiting for the circumstances to change.

Maybe I feel a loss of purpose and sense of aimless wandering because I have chosen, either consciously or subconsciously, not to accept my purpose, not to hone my gifts and use them. Instead I have just been sitting back, watching the show.

Mothering is hard.

I don't feel particularly inspired today. I was worn down by the end. Inside my brain was getting dark and scary. I had the sinking feeling that I'm doing this all wrong.

The thing about mothering is that I have always felt it was a calling for me. From the day I laid eyes on my oldest, I knew what I was made for.

Sometimes, I forget, though. Every day we get up, we eat, there is a lot of crying, a lot of sibling arguing, a lot of struggle, there is some reading and school work, more eating, more school, we clean some things, we get outside, eat some more, clean some more, we go to bed. Motherhood is kind of, well... monotonous. A lot of the time. Sometimes there is less crying and arguing. Sometimes we go places.

I don't mean that to sound bad. There is a lot of beauty in the ordinary and everyday. But it is sometimes hard to see it through all the diapers and food crumbs.

Little hands that still want to hold mine help.

Sought Out

Earlier today as I was reading the daily office in the car, a particular verse stood out to me:

"And they shall call them, The holy people, The redeemed of the Lord: and thou shalt be called, Sought out, A city not forsaken." - Isaiah 62:12

Sought out! My heart sung for a moment when I saw those words. Sought out! How lovely to think that I am sought out. I've never read all of Isaiah and I am still new to studying the Bible, but I knew that God was talking to me in that moment, that he was telling me I am, I am sought out. He sought me until I sought Him.

So, I had to laugh a little in delight just now when I was reading the lectionary for today, and Paul said to the Galations:

"And because ye are sons, God hath sent forth the spirit of his Son into your hearts, crying Abba, Father.

Wherefore thou art no more a servant, but a son: and if a son, then an heir of God through Christ." - Galations 4:6,7

On my own, I may never have tried to seek God for myself. But because he sought me, and because he sent his son, and because he sent his holy spirit into my heart to cry out for my Father, I did. I cried out and he answered.

I could have written about all sorts of things today. When I decided that I was going to start writing again, I did something I have never done before: before I typed a single letter, I prayed. And I prayed the next night before I sat down to write, and tonight. And these are the words that came out. I didn't feel compelled to write about the New Year, or all the screaming that went on in the house today, or that my 10 year old dropped the F-bomb in a fit of anger towards me right before he went to bed.

I wanted to write about this. I found I couldn't wait to share my excitement over these two simple words. God has been opening my eyes all week to see the me that he says I am. This one, so far, is my favorite.

I am Sought Out.