And do you seek God when you already have all the answers?
when the doctors say “do this.”
when parents say, “avoid that.”
when esteemed speakers say, “follow this.”
and you would not believe the violent wrestling within my heart of hearts. on days like these.
the hours d r a g. s l o w.
like the second hand is pricking the senses until the exhaustion sears white and through lips.
for years like these. and the begging aching of no more babies carried by my body, oh please, no more pregnancy. the sickness of nine months and the desperate angry exhaustedness that comes with their tiny perfect pinkness.
Lord, I cannot do this another time. But, I’m not going to ask You what Your plan is in this. I see how You are using these tiny humans to break me and mold me and cause me to cling white bare knuckled to the all of Your hem. But, Lord, I’m done.
And I am.
My flesh, my desire.
And there it is.
And desire does not always fall in line with God’s desire. And if He is Good… well, what does that say about this desire of mine, if it in fact is not of Him?
And there’s the struggle.
My black and white laws of processing the orders of this world in accordance with His Word, they fall. short. And I am at loss.
Something I am afraid to truly surrender at the foot of the throne?
I pray about it.
But I don’t surrender it, not f u l l y .
so then is it praying? This grappling?
See, I have these dreams still, silly me, of how my life is supposed to look- in the next five years. And nothing much of where I thought I would be five years ago is where I have found myself in the today of this moment…
So here I am… not. learning. a. single. thing.
The surrender is hard. The exhaustion is bitter. The word “sleep” echoes haughtily through my mind, a cruel joke.
And the deprivation of sleep creates the black hole that will swallow and shorten and downright run you dry into dust.
everything takes on an enormous ferocity. panicked urgency. and a stain in a carpet can just about upend your day before it even starts.
and the focus narrows, and suddenly all you can see is dark. and to forget that the dark can be holy.
That when you find yourself clawing for a way out of the black, you may find there is a reason you are already on your knees.
And the baby cries, and the emotions run hot and cold and all together polar. the tears run streaks down your own cheeks til you can’t see straight anymore. and as the mind begins to feel so far lost you don’t think you will ever find it again, the brush of His hand.
The sound of His feet.
You’ll feel, hear, and see Him as these moments fade into memory. As you look back at these darkest moments.
And if He has been there all along, is He not who to go to when you might have everything all right wrong?
And if what we do makes sense to the world, are we truly doing all right?
Letting go just might be the hardest of things. until the fist unclenches, and we let ourselves go from the sinking pit. maybe when we unclench our fists,
and release our dreams,
H e w i l l b e a b l e t o f i l l u s u p o n c e m o r e ?
And His dreams may cause a rest to the wrestling.
And peace may bring the sleep.