oh! excuse me. I'm just so worn out. Stretched thin as japanese rice paper. Thin like someone's promises. Thin like my sweet daughter's translucent skin that burns so dang easily.
gosh! I did it again! I can't stop. Did I mention that I'm worn out?
Am I seriously considering adding another little rug rat to this chaos? Yeah, of course. Because it's more than likely a heck of a lot better than their current chaos. (yes, I did some more research on that this weekend. As stretched as I feel, I imagine that God would expand me so that that precious little darling could know the love of a family. Even a tired family. We may be tired, but we're loving.)
But I need to do some work first. On me. On my marriage. We've been at each other all week. I'm currently residing in some black hole of hormonal shifts so massive that it's sucking in all the other members of this family too. Ben mis-understood his doctor and up'ed one of his meds 1500 mg instead of 300mg and ended up OD'ing on Friday. We've got it cleared up now, and he's ok (thanks for asking), but a side effect of OD'ing on this particular med is drastic mood swings. We didn't stand a chance. We normally are able to recognize each other's temporary (read: MY monthly) mood swings when everything we say should be taken with a grain of salt. We have learned how to deal with that, but the swings rarely occur to both of us at the same time. That's something we don't have a lot of experience with so we royally screwed up this weekend.
Exhibit A: the hole the size of a door knob in my bedroom wall (by yours truly)
Exhibit B: the freshly ripped hole in each of our frail little hearts
I'm a numbskull sometimes. We both are. But, as usual, we got it straightened out. It just took longer this time for us to gain some perspective and ask God to allow us to see each other through His eyes and not our own cloudy line of sight. He called a dear friend. I prayed (as well as I could after being left in a changing room at the rec center with three little kids after we'd told the kids we'd take them swimming and then ended up telling them we were going home instead. Just go ahead and try to imagine what THAT sounded like). He probably prayed too. Frozen, sugary treats from Dairy Cream and the promise to go swimming tonight instead made things a little better. And he and I staying up and talking through our expectations and accusations helped too. Man, we can really do some damage when we lose perspective!
I've been overly sensitive anyway recently. I don't know a lot about bodily memories (when your body - or subconscious, whatever - remembers a past trauma and causes you to be a bit off), but I do know that for the first half of every year, I have a hard time with being depressed and weary and extra worried and jumpy and junk like that. Nearly all of my past sexual assaults happened in the first half of the year. One in January, one in March, one in April and one in May. The one from April was the 'worst,' so I ALWAYS have a hard time this time of year. Isn't that weird? And it usually takes me until about now to remember that all my weariness is probably due to those traumas. I'm not like this from August through December. I'll have my moments then too, but not like this. I should probably take every calendar I ever get and warn myself. Because usually, as soon as I figure out the reason for me being off, I can counter it and get better. I have lots of experience with doing that. Happens every month. I used to write to a friend of mine what we eventually called "my monthly rant." I would write these long emails, spewing out all the reasons why Ben was a jerk, why my life sucked, and how miserable I was. I would also talk about how I hadn't yet done what I thought God wanted me to do. (hmmmm) After a while, my friend put two and two together and figured out that I was doing this every 28 days or so. I think I wrote her two more "monthly rants," but because I was able to recognize what was happening, I really didn't have much to rant about after that. I was able to accept things the way they were. If my mind exaggerated something and got me all worked up, I would remember that I was in a fragile state, and it would bring me back to reality. It's so nice when that happens. Wish it would have happened BEFORE I slammed the door...
But anyway, so I'm weary and tired and depressed and worn out. But I know me, so I know this isn't an accurate depiction of what's happening in my life. Sure I peel open my eyes and expose myself to the depravity of this world and get upset. But I know it won't always be this way. And sure, I have three small kids, and that in itself can be tiring. But I also know that one day I will want these days back again. And sure, I'm trying to pack up our house because we're moving to Denver in less than a month, but I know that the end is in sight for that as well. And in the meantime, it sure is nice to purge all the stuff we don't need or use. (Less is more is my philosophy. Just give me Jesus. That's all I need.)
So the things that may be causing my feelings are temporary, so I know that I won't always feel this way. And that sure is nice.
But I also know that if it isn't one thing, it's another. I know that this side of heaven, there will be pain and suffering and injustice and hatred. I know people will be abused and taken advantage of and laughed at and made to live through things that people just aren't built to handle on their own. I know that as soon as I learn how to manage my kids at this age, they will grow out of it, and I'll have to start learning all over again. I know that no matter how many years get between my now and my past, my past won't change, and it will probably still really hurt.
I have Jesus.
I will have rest. I will see every knee bow and every tear wiped away. I will see a day when my past doesn't sting anymore. When kids aren't orphaned and there's no such thing as cancer or AIDS or malaria or poverty or sexual assault. When my husband and I dance together with our Savior in sheer bliss and awe.
It's coming. But it's not here yet.
And in the meantime, I don't so much mind being worn out. I'd rather come to the end of my days and find myself worn out from doing what God has planned for me to do than to be all refreshed and stress-free because I ignored my calling. Because I ignored the need in this world. I would much rather be worn out.
Sure, there's lots of completely useless stuff I could be doing that also wears me out. I've gotta find the nearest trash can and toss those suckers. Lately, I've been trying to really examine myself to see if I'm wasting my time here. I am. And I'm working on it. Boy, can I ever justify those things when I really want to hold on to them! I'm pretty darned convincing. I could probably write a book about it and have loads of followers. Because in our depravity, we all want our fluff to be excused and accepted. If only by one other person. Because two against THE ONE is a majority, right? I mean, we know better, right?
See! THAT'S why I need a Savior! Because I actually think like that sometimes. My brain goes there and says "yeah, makes sense." Am I mad?! Nah, I'm just human. And God knows I'm little more than glorified dust. It's why He sent Jesus.
Oh, Jesus. How I love you. How you love me.
Little ones to Him belong, they are WORN OUT...
But HE IS STRONG.