Deep Breath

Let's have an honest conversation, shall we?

Being a mom is hard. 

Being a wife is hard.

Being a woman is hard.

Being a Christian is hard.

Every day is full of a bombardment of lies masquerading as truth, relationships and their perils, emotions that come from nowhere.

It would be untrue if I told you that I am always happy, always put together, always godly, always tactful, always loving, always healthy.

It would be much more accurate to tell you that I ate a brownie for breakfast (again) and immediately felt guilty, or that I ran three miles last week and felt on top of the world only to remind myself that it really isn't that far, or that I want to write and make things beautiful but I'm scared that the things I create don't matter. 

It would be painfully transparent to confess that I daily have to remind myself to keep realistic expectations about my marriage, that I struggle to be inspired as I read my bible, and that I feel so small in this world. 

But there is beauty in struggle.  I can see it.  I can see the sun coming through the windows. I can see rain feeding the desert.  I can hear Jack laughing at some small pleasure that I have missed because of my grown-up responsibilities. 

This morning I was talking with a friend who has been processing difficult emotions and struggling to see where truth is in the midst of pain.  And I was reminded of how big God is.  Of how wise.  Of how compassionate.  

He is not caught unaware by my emotional surges or my questions or my confusion.  He is not ruffled by my anger or indifference or forgetfulness.  

He loves me, not just in spite of it, but through it.  He is present and active and attentive.  He is not distant, just giving a passing grade.  He is near.  Teaching, holding, laughing, weeping.  My Jesus.  My Friend.  My Companion and King.  

I can't say that I know where to go from here.  Or that I have a plan of how to love Jesus more, or make things easier.  I sort of wish I knew those things.  I like the feeling of control that a plan of action gives me.  

But I don't need one.

I know that Jesus has a clear vision for me, for my days, weeks and years.  He sees where I intersect with other lives, how I influence decisions or the development of a precious child.  He sees so much beyond what I can even imagine or comprehend, that for today, I am not even going to try.

I am simply going to trust him and love him.  

Let him lead.

Let him love me.

I am going to be still and know that he is God. 

Ahh. *big breath in*

It feels so good.