the long stretch ahead
I had my four week OB follow up today. My body has healed from the delivery. I can start exercising again and the YMCA is no longer off limits. This is something to be thankful for.
After four weeks, I am back to homeschooling, going on field trips, taking the kids on play dates. With all of this normalcy, it seems that I should be feeling better. Strangely, though it has been a full month since we lost Evelyn, I am feeling the fallout of the situation most deeply right now.
Sitting at the kitchen table with the kids this week while reading a book on snakes, I found myself barking at Lydia for not finishing her coloring of a coral snake. I just wanted her to get it done. She doesn't like snakes, didn't want to do it. Impatience, anger, frustration. I have to stop. Take a breath. Count to ten. Then break for some play time. Come back later to finish. Some mornings, it takes me until lunch to feel right. I'm tired, so tired.
This emotional weariness, I realize, is linked to my physical fatigue. Months of underlying stress, recent weeks of night wakings with Abigail, Lydia, now Nathanael. Each of my children is "high need" right now, for different reasons. Teething, bedwetting, worry. My kids need me. I feel like I need to be alone.
In my fatigue, I find myself going down thought places I don't want to be. Self-pity, critical thoughts make their way in. It's not just sadness right now that I struggle with, but this dogged tiredness, this proclivity to negative thinking, disheartened, discouraged thoughts.
Lord, you know my heart.
Save me from myself, from sinking beneath the waters,
I am so weary, so frail,
Set my feet on a rock that is firm.
You are my Savior, my deliverer,
I trust You.
When I open the Bible these days, I usually search out a psalm to read. In these songs, you can find a real depth of emotion and experience with God. In many of David's psalms, he begins with a very honest outpouring of his heart. He speaks how his heart is troubled, burden, discouraged. This I can relate to quite easily. Then, almost immediately, he breaks into pure worship and thanksgiving to God. This is what gets me. What is the mental bridge between the anguish and the praise? To me, the first seems natural, the second, divine.
I was reading another excerpt about Joni Eareckson Tada, a woman who has been a quadrapalegic since age 17. The interviewer asked her how she can be so joyful amid such daily difficulties of being confined to a wheelchair without the use of her arms and legs. She said that she has disciplined herself to be thankful to the point where "being thankful in all circumstances" just comes naturally.
Wow.
In my last post, I talked about choosing to be thankful. This is something that has been on my heart all week. Ironically, it has been a week in which I have struggled over and over to find something to be thankful for. I find that I vascillate between moments when it seems easy to be thankful to moments of despair. Most of the time, I find myself in that gray area in between.
I sat in the patient room today, feeling a flood of memories wash over me. They placed me in the same room today as the day when I found out that Evelyn had died. For the first time, images like movie clips of that day ran through my mind. In the quiet before Dr. Fernandez entered the room, I sat with the images. Then, I remembered God. I decided to remember how good he was through the whole experience, how He brought doctors and nurses who cared so well for Evelyn, for me and for Steve, how he quieted our hearts and comforted through his Word, through friends and family. I thanked Him, over and over, in that small, quiet room full of memories.
Why is it so easy for me to remember His love then and not now? In these days, why is it so hard to feel thankful, to be joyful? Why does it feel like such work to be in a good mood? Why is it so much easier to be sullen, withdrawl, quiet? I don't like myself this way.
In my more active times, I have been a runner. I like to be outside; it makes my heart happy. What I have found as a runner is that I actually run better when I am faced with a hill. I see my challenge, I brace myself for the challenge, I conquer the challenge (!) My downfall is when I get to the long, monotonous flat stretches of road. I lose momentum, I start to peeter out emotionally. Here is my greatest struggle.
After the last month of seen challenges, life appears to be normal. My challenge is not visible, however, but invisible. The struggle is in my heart and in my thoughts and that is much more challenging for me than before. This is really when I need prayer support, but what do I ask for? Endurance of heart? Encouragement in my spirit? Assurance from the Lord?
These days are when mere discipline of the heart is much needed. I'm not an ascetic, but I do see that days when the feelings of comfort, wellness and joy are not palpably there, I need to make choices, over and over again. Otherwise, I feel that I may either drift into self-absorption and depression or become terribly negative.
And more than that, I want to be close to God. I need to be close to Him. And my small knowledge of scripture shows me that thanksgiving, worship, praise is the gateway to His Presence. It brings me close to Him. That is where I need-- and want--to be.
So with a heart that, by His grace, can choose gratitude,
I am grateful for...
healing and restoration,
chances to reach out to others in need,
meeting a new friend who has been through the same loss-- being able to hug and cry together,
day at the beach with sis, watching lydia make sand angels, rescuing a fearless abigail from the waves, seeing nathanael try body surfing for the first time...
feeling my little niece moving and kicking in her mama's belly,
a few cool florida mornings,
jogging for the first time in months,
celebrating my best friend's 37th birthday,
abigail learning how to jump...
thank you Jesus,
thank you.
After four weeks, I am back to homeschooling, going on field trips, taking the kids on play dates. With all of this normalcy, it seems that I should be feeling better. Strangely, though it has been a full month since we lost Evelyn, I am feeling the fallout of the situation most deeply right now.
Sitting at the kitchen table with the kids this week while reading a book on snakes, I found myself barking at Lydia for not finishing her coloring of a coral snake. I just wanted her to get it done. She doesn't like snakes, didn't want to do it. Impatience, anger, frustration. I have to stop. Take a breath. Count to ten. Then break for some play time. Come back later to finish. Some mornings, it takes me until lunch to feel right. I'm tired, so tired.
This emotional weariness, I realize, is linked to my physical fatigue. Months of underlying stress, recent weeks of night wakings with Abigail, Lydia, now Nathanael. Each of my children is "high need" right now, for different reasons. Teething, bedwetting, worry. My kids need me. I feel like I need to be alone.
In my fatigue, I find myself going down thought places I don't want to be. Self-pity, critical thoughts make their way in. It's not just sadness right now that I struggle with, but this dogged tiredness, this proclivity to negative thinking, disheartened, discouraged thoughts.
Lord, you know my heart.
Save me from myself, from sinking beneath the waters,
I am so weary, so frail,
Set my feet on a rock that is firm.
You are my Savior, my deliverer,
I trust You.
When I open the Bible these days, I usually search out a psalm to read. In these songs, you can find a real depth of emotion and experience with God. In many of David's psalms, he begins with a very honest outpouring of his heart. He speaks how his heart is troubled, burden, discouraged. This I can relate to quite easily. Then, almost immediately, he breaks into pure worship and thanksgiving to God. This is what gets me. What is the mental bridge between the anguish and the praise? To me, the first seems natural, the second, divine.
I was reading another excerpt about Joni Eareckson Tada, a woman who has been a quadrapalegic since age 17. The interviewer asked her how she can be so joyful amid such daily difficulties of being confined to a wheelchair without the use of her arms and legs. She said that she has disciplined herself to be thankful to the point where "being thankful in all circumstances" just comes naturally.
Wow.
In my last post, I talked about choosing to be thankful. This is something that has been on my heart all week. Ironically, it has been a week in which I have struggled over and over to find something to be thankful for. I find that I vascillate between moments when it seems easy to be thankful to moments of despair. Most of the time, I find myself in that gray area in between.
I sat in the patient room today, feeling a flood of memories wash over me. They placed me in the same room today as the day when I found out that Evelyn had died. For the first time, images like movie clips of that day ran through my mind. In the quiet before Dr. Fernandez entered the room, I sat with the images. Then, I remembered God. I decided to remember how good he was through the whole experience, how He brought doctors and nurses who cared so well for Evelyn, for me and for Steve, how he quieted our hearts and comforted through his Word, through friends and family. I thanked Him, over and over, in that small, quiet room full of memories.
Why is it so easy for me to remember His love then and not now? In these days, why is it so hard to feel thankful, to be joyful? Why does it feel like such work to be in a good mood? Why is it so much easier to be sullen, withdrawl, quiet? I don't like myself this way.
In my more active times, I have been a runner. I like to be outside; it makes my heart happy. What I have found as a runner is that I actually run better when I am faced with a hill. I see my challenge, I brace myself for the challenge, I conquer the challenge (!) My downfall is when I get to the long, monotonous flat stretches of road. I lose momentum, I start to peeter out emotionally. Here is my greatest struggle.
After the last month of seen challenges, life appears to be normal. My challenge is not visible, however, but invisible. The struggle is in my heart and in my thoughts and that is much more challenging for me than before. This is really when I need prayer support, but what do I ask for? Endurance of heart? Encouragement in my spirit? Assurance from the Lord?
These days are when mere discipline of the heart is much needed. I'm not an ascetic, but I do see that days when the feelings of comfort, wellness and joy are not palpably there, I need to make choices, over and over again. Otherwise, I feel that I may either drift into self-absorption and depression or become terribly negative.
And more than that, I want to be close to God. I need to be close to Him. And my small knowledge of scripture shows me that thanksgiving, worship, praise is the gateway to His Presence. It brings me close to Him. That is where I need-- and want--to be.
So with a heart that, by His grace, can choose gratitude,
I am grateful for...
healing and restoration,
chances to reach out to others in need,
meeting a new friend who has been through the same loss-- being able to hug and cry together,
day at the beach with sis, watching lydia make sand angels, rescuing a fearless abigail from the waves, seeing nathanael try body surfing for the first time...
feeling my little niece moving and kicking in her mama's belly,
a few cool florida mornings,
jogging for the first time in months,
celebrating my best friend's 37th birthday,
abigail learning how to jump...
thank you Jesus,
thank you.
It is during times like these that it is a sacrifice to praise God. A sacrifice--a hard one. But as you sacrifice your praise to Him, He will condition your heart to do it more and more--to live with the praise. Also--He has come that we may live--and that we may live abundantly. The death and resurrection of our Savior allows you to walk through this time living abundantly. How? You'll have to ask Him. He will show you. Remember--you may come under spiritual attacks during this time--pray for protection, stand in Jesus' blood, do not allow that evil one to take over your life! He's trying--but God is bigger than your grief, He is bigger than the attacks, He is bigger than the sorrow that is surrounding you. He's bigger than your frustrations and your anger. He's bigger then wet beds, lack of sleep, night terrors, and children's needs. He's bigger than your weariness. He is bigger than YOUR needs and neediness. Hold onto the hands of Sorrow and Suffering at this time, and allow them to lead you on your path. Rest when you can, read from God as much as possible, find the verses that help give you strength--and put them all over your house to read and read and read until they are flowing through your entire being. And grieve. Cry, pray, kick in anger, tell God how hard it is, how upset you are, cry more--and then feel His arms as He holds you tight and whispers His love in your ear. As He pushes your hair back, cradles you tightly, and just sits with you. As He collects each and every one of your tears.
ReplyDeleteI love you.
Jen