Done

I was done.  Really done.

I lay in bed, thoughts swirling tumultuously – Oh, to drive away and keep going!

 I just wanted it all to stop: the kids, the husband, the life.  When I looked towards them:  they needed something.  Always.  When I looked towards him:  he suffered pain.  Always.   When I looked towards myself:  insufficiency.  Always.

In my mind, I drove away.  Over and over again.  I ran away and left because I wanted quietness and peace and I knew they’d be better off anyway.  Too bad, even in my imagination, that every destination was wrought with its own set of overwhelming problems.   I had to get a job or help other people and still shop for food and cook it. Nowhere could I go and just be.  Just sit.  Just be worthless. 

So I didn’t drive away, but I felt sad.  Really sad.  These life problems – too much!  I felt the sting and disappointments of the cards I’d been dealt.

After two long nights of horrible, torturous thoughts, Sunday morning dawned.  I awoke defeated and stonefaced.  I’m too stubborn to ever quit, but that’s what I wanted.  These thoughts of overwhelming worthlessness had agonized me long enough.  I knew they were not of God but felt so trapped.  I also knew that I needed prayer and council and quick!  I’d been in that same spot almost exactly a year before and James had sent me to some rejuvenating solitude, but this time I felt that I needed some listening people ears.  I prayed that our mentors would be in town that weekend, that I would see them at church (not a given in a megachurch), and that they would offer to talk to me that day.  And so, as I stood, they walked through the door. I got to the point and told them I was barely holding together and please, could they talk with me soon?  Yes!  Yes, they could!  How about Tuesday?  Or Wednesday? I don’t remember the days, really, I was crying.  How about today?  YES!  TODAY!  God answers prayer.  God loves me, even when I’m not looking in the right direction.

A pivotal day.  A praising Jesus day.  A day that they sacrificed to listen to this hurting girl.  And I told them everything.  James sat in the other room while I told them all my sadnesses, all my recent sins.  I poured it all out.  The bittersweetness of life, the unknown roles, the expectations, the exhaustion, the tension, the resentment, my critical heart and the darkness of the days ahead.

And here’s the thing.  As I sat, drinking my water, and soaking in their council, I realized that they did not tell me that I was doing a great job and that things would get better soon.  They didn’t tell me that my husband was wrong, or my kids.  Who they pointed to, gently albeit, was me and Jesus.  My time spent with Him.  My time listening to Him.  A verse to replace the lies.  And the great importance of recharging, of not making excuses against rest until I felt insane, was insane.

I’d lost it, nearly, for lack of rest; physical and spiritual. 

For lack of wisdom in knowing the right time to stop. 

For lack of ability to push past the feelings of guilt in needing time for myself. 

And, in not taking that time, I’d made a hard situation worse. 

In these last couple weeks since I broke, God has been faithfully prodding me onward with His love.  More than that, He’s been lifting me up.  I’ve received letters, and phone calls, and other encouragements from people.  The sermons and talks have been exactly what I needed to hear.  My humble, loving, open and willing husband has been praying for me and our relationship has a renewed breath in it.  Everything that I’m hearing each day seems to have a synchronized tone of stopping, resting, being.  Of course it’s God telling me this.

In a way it’s funny.  In my moment of desperation, I wanted to stop and rest to be, and I could not although I was shutting down.  It’s also beautiful.  God has given me my heart’s desire although I have only slightly slowed.  

Moses asks, “Who am I, that I should [do this great task]…?” and God does not directly answer his question.  He responds, “I will be with you” (Gen 3:11-12).  Does it matter who I am or am not or how great the task at hand is when God is with me? 

Lamentations 3:19-23 says, “I remember my affliction and my wandering, the bitterness and the gall.  I well remember them, and my soul is downcast within me.  Yet this I call to mind and therefore I have hope:  Because of the Lord’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail.  They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.”  This verse keeps coming at me.

James and I have set in place a survival plan, more than that, it’s a living life well plan.

* Thursday nights have become sacred.  One or the other of us has the evening off, completely off.  It’s my Thursday today.  I think I have anticipated this lifeline evening every day for the last 11 days.  

*James has declared a night where we debrief and check in with each other. 

*We keep each other more accountable for time spent reading our Bibles.  

*And less distraction of screens!

Am I the only one out there who forgets to stop?  Who hits the wall once in a while?  Who keeps running so fast that I lose my focus completely?  I don't think so.

My problem, like Moses, was that I was looking too much at myself and the situation.  I was too small and it was too big. 

I became overwhelmed and lost and didn't hear the words that were and are always there.

I AM WITH YOU.