A Summary of Despair

Today I told my mom we’d likely be moving in with her in a few months.

I read all the promises in the Bible. That verse in Isaiah that keeps popping out at me. The promises to prosper and not to harm. At one point today, as I pondered what on earth I am supposed to do in this time of waiting, a voice popped in my head and said, “Model faith for your children.” Or something like that. Basically, do the opposite of the daily breakdown thing I’ve been doing.

I just don’t know how to do it. At every turn, a door slams in our faces. Thanks to a plumbing bill and HOA fees and a ripped set of sheets and LIFE, our savings are going faster than ever. James wanted to have a huge heart to heart about the fact that he probably isn’t going to find a job in his injury. I was pissed because I asked him to find a recruiter to help him transition…in JANUARY. And scared, because how to you transition without starting over with a tiny salary? And discouraged, because this has basically undone decades of hard work. We weren’t living extravagantly, but for the first time in our lives, we had a fund to absorb emergencies. Gosh, that was fun. Past tense, of course.

I just can’t see any option or any hope. Today’s verse told me to cry out to God in desperation, and He’ll answer me. I did. Nothing budged. James did, however, suggest buying land and building one of those metal barns to live in. I am not even worthy of a house.

James tried to re-enlist in the Air Force, but he’s been out too long. It really feels like I have an unemployable husband. My flesh screams to flee back to Ohio, find a job that pays 20 grand less than the one I left, and at least we won’t be bankrupt.

I really wanted to lean into hope. To risk-taking. To going after what I thought God wanted me to do…until our universe imploded. Today I just couldn’t do it. Today I was angry, scared, hurt, confused, discouraged. On this gorgeous day with its promise of spring, I alternated between vicious rage and tears. I’m sleep-deprived and I feel completely and utterly alone.

Out of options.

Desperate.

That’s when God shows up, right?

Unless he doesn’t.

I know this isn’t how a person with faith talks, but it’s hard to hope for good things when you can’t help but remember those other times you stepped out in faith and it was a disaster. This might be my worst disaster yet.