Confession: I have been living in a rut that I’m just dying to get out of. I’m up late tonight (and so many nights), feeling like I need to put another stake in the ground. Like I need to declare this moment as a turning point…and it’s got to be. It just has. to. be.

I’m awake in the middle of my living room at this unholy hour, because I am fighting a battle that feels like it’s against flesh and blood when I know it’s so much more than that. My chest is heavy, as they’ve all been in this house for the past few days. Everyone has taken their turn with a nasty cold gone wrong, and thankfully (but miserably), I am trailing the pack. This means the kiddos are improving daily and Jason is on the upswing, but I’m still working my way through the worst parts. I’ve mentioned it before, but I am not a good patient. And I’ve had far more practice in the past few months than I ever imagined, which challenges me to my core. I am much better at being the nurse than the patient. So much better.

The reality I’m facing isn’t life or death, although we’ve worked through all of those fears and emotions for more than one of us in this house since December, which feels like more than enough. The truth is that I’ve been down or working hard to take care of someone who is down for nearly all of the days of 2015, and I am weary.

I am weary of trying so hard every day to find the silver lining in all of the mess. I am weary of carrying guilt for not just being grateful all of the time, in spite of life’s challenging imperfections. I am weary of asking more of our kiddos than should be asked of them at almost four and one and a half years old. I am weary of saying “no” to the little ones I love so much, simply because my emotional self or my physical self quite honestly can’t say “yes.” I am weary of feeling blurry and unsure around the edges instead of sharp and with it and pulled together. This is outside of my comfort zone…a place I never planned to be or to stay for very long at all. But God is up to something.

God is up to something and all I can surmise is that the enemy hates it. Life has thrown so many distractions at our little family in the past four months that sometimes I can hardly breath. Or I feel like I’m just treading water and getting nowhere, instead of making progress forward like (what feels like) everyone else around me.

I’m writing tonight, because after some time in prayer and hashing things out with both God and in warfare, I feel like all of these lies of inadequacy and stagnancy and suffocating need to be exposed. I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’m not the only mom (or woman or person) who has faced these lies since 2015 began, and feeling alone on top of everything else is like one big kick when you’re already down.

As best as I can remember, I haven’t had an ear infection since I was a kid. All day today, my ears and head have been ringing and pounding–reverberating with the awfulness that is this (springtime?) cold. So why of all nights, when I’m physically sick and dizzy and overtired, would God keep me awake at this hour? Because for all of these days that I’ve felt like I’m a battle ground for something, I am. And for the sake of what I feel called to do, I know that God is asking me to dig my heels in even deeper. Tonight, that means prayer and to be honest here in this space. Wherever that meets you, if it meets you, wherever you are. Or wherever that puts me, on the trajectory that God has for my life and journey as a wife, a mother, a child of the most extraordinary King.

There have been few moments in the last, very long string of days that I can recall not feeling dependent on God. I haven’t done a stellar job of reflecting that in my actions at all times, but I am truly, truly in a new and further abandoned place with the Lord. I don’t like this kind of vulnerability, and yet, I do. I’m safer here, more fully sold out for a God who knows all of my days and all of my needs, insecurities, misgivings and fears, long before I’m ever aware of them.

This is a crazy journey we’re on, and I am doing my best to be enthusiastic that it means beautiful things are on the horizon. I’m depending on that truth, because this life is so fleeting, and our troubles are light and momentary, even when they feel weighty and everlasting. We’re promised as much. Glory be to the God who is able to do far more than we ever dare to ask, dream or imagine. Infinitely more than our highest hopes…He calls us to ask Him, and we need to and should. I need Him every hour.

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