There is always hope

I am more stale than a bag of week old, off brand Doritos. I am tired, worn and and frankly, kaput.  I am a busted up record. I am every bad cliché about being depressed.

And if you don't want to read anymore, I understand.  Truly, I do.  Who wants to preserve and read through it when I don't want to write about it anymore?  And believe me, I have beaten myself up over it.  The self - talk has been awful.

Dwelling on my past isn't who I am, yet looking ahead is impossible. I am stuck.  I haven't moved on.  I can't move on.  For me, a naturally driven person, a do it yourselfer, an A type personality, has been exchanged passion for paralysis. I feel weak, I feel immobilized and defeated.  I don't give grace naturally or easily and don't worry, I'm giving myself the same medicine I have secretly judged others with for probably the majority of my life.

And it is bitter.

I have decided that the darkest days don't come in the heat of battle, but the murkiest of hours come in time long after the wounds were inflicted.  Or 380 day after "it all" began, if you are one to keep track of numbers and stuff.

And I was moving on this year until I got the news about Bo a few weeks ago.  Hearing the words, "he needs to be seen right away" and "we will need to schedule an EEG" was just overwhelming for an already fragile state of mind. The doctors are suspecting my one year old little boy is having silent seizures.

I can't write the words that went through my mind, as I have learned discretion is a gift, but I'd be lying if I didn't utter something along the lines as, "Seriously....................? Again......................? More..................................?"  All I can say is before I blinked, I had tears stream down my face. It's not that God isn't able, it's not the seizures are deadly.  It's that it seems its time to walk the road of trial yet again.  And so soon.

This isn't me and yet there is nothing I can do about it.  I have tried.  I have tried losing myself in TV shows, eating and shopping.  I have tried to escape my reality, somehow believing I only needed God for the heat of the battle, not knowing the days, weeks and many months ahead are actually more scary and the light now shines a little less brightly than before.

I am in my lowest place.  I was here once before after the loss of our first baby. It's an unwelcome familiarity. 

And I. Hate. It.

And yet, I know in the depths of my heart, buried below the heavy pains in my soul, I know. His gentle spirit has been relentlessly calling me back.  It's Romans 2:4 coming true, ”Or do you think lightly of the riches of His kindness and tolerance and patience, not knowing that the kindness of God leads you to repentance?”  That His kindness is what draws back into relationship with my Heavenly Father.  That His gentle spirit beckons me to crawl back on my Daddy's lap and just find peace as I rest in His arms.

I know Jesus is worth trusting. I know. Tears steam down my face because I know. He can help me overcome. I know He is my peace. I know He is my comfort. 

I have been doing a lot to deaden myself, and my feelings, lately. Drowning myself, knowing full well the consequences of my actions. But the other day, I was doing the dishes, turned on Pandora, and I felt God speak to me through a song.

The sun comes up, it's a new day dawning
It's time to sing Your song again
Whatever may pass, and whatever lies before me
Let me be singing when the evening comes

[Chorus]
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
I'll worship Your holy name

You're rich in love, and You're slow to anger
Your name is great, and Your heart is kind
For all Your goodness I will keep on singing
Ten thousand reasons for my heart to find

[Chorus]
Bless the Lord, O my soul
O my soul
Worship His holy name
Sing like never before
O my soul
I'll worship Your holy name

And on that day when my strength is failing
The end draws near and my time has come
Still my soul will sing Your praise unending
Ten thousand years and then forevermore

My words fail to utter the stillness and calm that has come over my soul when I've simply allowed the worship of God into my home. Binging on television shows, double stuff Oreos or shopping has left me empty and wanting.  Always disappointed and never satisfied.

 

I am the worst version of myself right now and yet I am reminded that's when God can do His best work.   As the words sank into my heart, in poetic fashion, the piercing bright light of a winter sun cut through my cold, dead soul. I felt a renewed sense of hope, even in the midst of it all, I could see it.  I remember the joy of having light in my life.  How it breathes into me.  How it renews and refreshes me. The light golden hues cut through the frozen colors of winter, like a sharp knife, it doesn't waste time  and cuts straight to my heart.  And I feel how itchy this skin is and my desire to shed it is real.  In Isaiah, there is a chapter and a few verses that talk about the deliverance of God's people.  He says, "Do not call to mind the former things, Or ponder things of the past. 'Behold, I will do something new, Now it will spring forth; Will you not be aware of it? I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, Rivers in the desert.…'" (43:18-19).

And maybe being made new is getting a humbling lesson in grace and relentless compassion.  Maybe in spite of my pain and hurt, I see even more clearly how loving my Heavenly Father truly is.  Even when I have no grace for myself.

 Lord, make me new.  Make me completely new.