Sometimes My Thoughts Aren't Pretty

I started this blog to document the crazy journey I was attempting to move away from my cowardly dependence on my job to become a woman who walks with God in faith.  I wanted to be honest; to see the whole story unfold, and I supposed I knew some of it would be ugly.  Sometimes the struggles in my mind do not neatly align themselves with what I know the Bible teaches, and this is one of those moments.

It turns out the peace was short-lived.  Today touched off a violent storm of emotions again; I nearly cried on the way to the grocery, and again on the way home.  I thought about the preschool experience that has been taken from Caleb, and tears welled up again.  I put Violet down for a nap in a dark room where she can sleep, and the lump in my throat swelled.  I read books and kissed boo-boos and made meals and did dishes and folded laundry and wondered out loud how on earth I’m going to do all this in two weeks.  My body is so close to quitting…why not add forty-plus hours off site and an hour in the car and hope for the best?

I am equal hearts heartbroken and angry, mostly at God and my husband, both of whom I hoped I could depend on and both of whom do not seem to give two you-know-what’s.  At least God does not get to sleep through the night, but still.  Resentment does not do pretty things to a girl, even if it's justified.  God is a tender, loving God, but I do not feel tenderly loved.

I’m writing these Advent calendar entries about God’s promises, how He always keeps them, how He can always be trusted.  Yet, I have no current evidence to support that theory.  I feel like a fraud.  This storm in my life feels like forever.  The voice is loud.  Just give up hope.  Quit asking for things you know you won’t ever have.  Bury the call in your heart and raise your kids just like everyone else.  Be glad for the weekends. Why do you think you deserve to stay home, anyway?  You chose to marry him; this is your punishment.  Miracles happen for other people; not for you.  You forfeited your right to a miracle years ago.  It will never change. 

Yes, I know the error of those words, but it hurts too much to go on in hope.  Yes, the Bible tells me that nothing is impossible for God.  I believe that.  It also tells us He keeps His promises.  It says He will provide.  It says He loves us.  I am reciting these truths to myself over and over and waiting, hoping for some peace to come of it.  I have been waiting a long time, and time is running out.  Maybe I should have named Violet Anna; it appears I will be nearly dead before God fulfills His promise, and what will it matter then?

I’m fairly certain I’m guilty of being the “Oh ye of little faith.”  It. Just. Hurts. Savage, heart-wrenching hurt.  I can’t possibly emote enough to find relief. 

So I’m off to write about how we face opposition when we follow God, and how He can tame even the worst storms.  While wondering if He’ll ever do that for me.