I am living a lonelier life than what suits me right now. My husband has been blessed with a change in his job that is very good but, for the near future, consuming. Some of the people who understand me best are busy or far away or just not accessible. Because my husband is mentally AWOL a lot, my kids need me more. And I have a lot of them. And even though there are 15 people living in my house, my heart feels alone.
Alone in my struggles. Alone in my fast and fight to be faithful to the Lord and honor Him with my eating and body; alone in my parenting journey, potty training and providing therapy for the Hormone Squad, and alone in my grieving for the oldest ones growing up. I am alone in the overwhelmedness of doing what I do.
I recently wrote a song, written to order by my worship leader/friend. The song is about joy. Here are some of the words:
There are no good days or bad days
There are only days of grace
Sometimes grace to endure
Sometimes grace to enjoy
But there's always joy
It's a stupid song and it makes me angry, because I don't remember ever in my life being so discouraged as I have been since I wrote that dumb thing. Now I'm not saying it shouldn't be true. But for me, in this season, it ain't.
I have moments of joy and sweetness and cuteness and awe. But I'm also really in a battle to maintain my hold on that grace. I am mostly trying to endure.
One of my favorite things to do when I'm more than 20 or so weeks pregnant is obsess about labor, how the last one went, my best and worst, other people's, how I want this one to go. And this is what I want for this labor. I want to get in there, and after all the fanfare of getting in my room and checked and all monitored up, I want to get down to business, turn the lights down, music on, and just commune with the Lord for every contraction. I don't want anything in my heart but the Lord, my husband and my baby. I don't want to worry about how long or how many or when or if the doctor will get there. I just want to give all my focus to Jesus.
And I think this whole pregnancy and that stupid song and my battle right now is maybe practice. Maybe I'm supposed to be practicing clinging to the Lord when it is hard. Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning. At least that's what I'm thinking.