I just turned 35.  This past year has been one of the worst of my life.  It sounds melodramatic, I know.  And the reality is that even knowing the reasons why, most people would likely think I’m being ridiculous.  Usually, I think the same.  Nevertheless, I’m not at this place of doubt and hopelessness for no reason. Somehow, it’s these little things – these small trials that seem so insignificant  – that are most effective at tearing down my faith.

I’ve thought about it a lot.  There are a ton of explanations I could give as to why.  I don’t know how much any of that matters at the end of the day, though.  What matters is that I am here, and here is not okay.  Here is where I find myself unwilling to trust.  Here is where I don’t believe His love (again).  Here is where my faith seems pointless.  And here is where I need to make a choice.

Because as much as I just don’t want to believe Him, or His Word, or that I can trust Him (and I honestly don’t want to right now), I also don’t want to believe my heart, or my circumstances, or whatever other changeable notions are filling my vision at the moment.

As much as I feel like He has failed me over and over again these past few years, I also know my tendency to build a wall and push away so that I can’t be hurt too badly – which, at the same time, makes it impossible for me to trust too deeply.

As much as I want to staunchly assert that what He has given is just.not.enough, I also can’t deny that at least in this moment, I have what I need.

So, my choice is this: to accept that my rationale and analysis and emotions are sufficient and conclude that faith just isn’t worth it; or to acknowledge that there are ways higher than mine, that it is possible that One who knows the end from the beginning might have a better perspective, that the truth that God is, which is cemented in the deepest part of my soul, should be enough to make me dig in my heels and keep pursuing, no matter the cost.

It isn’t a choice that I like.  I guess my selfishness and pride run a bit too deep still for me to like the thought of dying to myself.  But, I think, the choice I will make has never really been up in the air.  I will abandon my logic, my ideals, my heart – though probably not with any ease.  I will call myself a fool in light of the only One who I can be certain is wise.  It’s hardly a revelation, this decision.  More like a painful refining process that thus far has left me feeling small and weak and pitiful.  I don’t understand the point of it.

But, maybe that’s the point of it.

Today, Bethany is 8.

More and more frequently, I find myself being stunned by the realization that she is growing up.

I see it in her sense of humor which, though still not really refined, shows thought and understanding beyond the silliness of a little girl.

I see it in moments of conscientiousness – times when I previously would have expected words of direction or correction to be ignored, she is starting to take them to heart, and remember, and apply appropriately.

I see it when she explains a Bible passage and she really gets it, and doesn’t just repeat what she has read or heard.

I see it in how tall she is, in how strong she is, in how capable she can be when she sets her mind to task.

Yes, she is growing and maturing and learning.  She has far to go, still, but she has come far these past few years, too.  I don’t often take time to acknowledge that.  Too much, I miss her triumphs in the midst of trying to address her weaknesses.  But, when I really think about it, I can clearly see the refining process that is happening, and I am reminded of the beautiful, precious gift she is…to me, to us, to the world around her.

And because it pretty much sums up Bethany, a brief recounting of a recent interaction.

Bethany:  Who isn’t excited about tomorrow?

(I raise my hand…I’m honest, if not inspiring)

Bethany:  Why wouldn’t you be excited about tomorrow?!?!  Who knows?  It could be the best day of your whole life!!

I love her.

Happy Birthday, Miss Bethany.

This is our fourth year doing Upward basketball.  Today is the first game I have missed.  Elijah isn’t feeling well, so we’re home.  It’s probably just as well, since I was sick yesterday and am still weak and dizzy, and the idea of sitting on hard bleachers for three hours while supervising too-energetic children is likely not a great one.

It’s snowing outside, again, and for the first time this winter, I just can’t appreciate the beauty of it.  I just want it done.  I want the cold and ugly, wet mess gone.  I want sunshine and flowers and warm breezes and green grass.  I want to be able to take walks and turn off the furnace and open windows.  I want to forget winter.  But I look out my window and there it is – still.

It’s getting hard to hold out hope for a new season.  I mean, obviously, it will be warmer some day.  I just wonder where grace is for today.  I wonder why this unwanted snow keeps falling.  I wonder what it is about a new, better season that has God saying not yet.  I’m not finding any lessons here.  This has been a hard, hard winter.  Sickness, and discouragement, and things breaking, and lots of moments of thinking things can’t get any worse, then realizing that, sometimes, things not getting any better can be even harder still.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to handle the rest of this winter.

In so many ways, life just seems messy lately.  Messy, like not organized.  Messy, like muddled.  Messy, like filled with lots of random pieces that don’t fit together.

I have another cold, though to say “another” might imply that I was over the first round of sickness that started in early January.  I wasn’t, not completely anyway.  But for the past week, there’s been a resurgence of coughing, sore throat and stuffiness that I really just want to be done with.  In addition, there has been exhaustion…because of the cold, because Ava wakes up a lot, because I’m in my third trimester and I can’t lay down for more than 6 hours or so without becoming really uncomfortable.  So my energy and my motivation wane.  My temper is short and my brain is foggy and my days become a mess.  Over and over, I yell or I criticize or I’m just plain mean, and over and over again, I get convicted and I repent and I explain…not always, but a lot.  Most days, I depend on schoolwork sort of just happening, with little guidance or oversight from me, and I have no real concept of where each subject is in relation to where it needs to be.  I do know there is progress being made in most areas, and I am mostly okay just knowing that.

And, apart from the daily messes, there are all of the things that are up in the air right now…many with a deadline of 2.5 months, or less, from now when this baby is scheduled to arrive.  Things like turning our currently unfinished “utility” room into a semi-functional guest room, finding a new vehicle, deciding on baby names…and really, the list could go on for a while.

Plus, there’s the difficult or unexpected circumstances of life that interrupt or bring confusion or just feel like there will never be resolution.  Like the two cuts that Nathanael has on his face now because, twice this week,  he was goofing around with his brother and things didn’t turn out well – which cause me panic and frustration and leave me wondering how I should react.  And there’s the questions of why, or how, or for how long that surface time and time again as we consider things that just don’t work out the way we think they should.  I like to have clear-cut answers, and sometimes they’re just not to be had.  These messes aren’t necessarily meant to be made neat and tidy.  I have a hard time with that, though.

So, in all of this, I find myself trying to see God’s hand.  But, honestly, my soul seems pretty messy right now, too.  Or, maybe, barren.  It’s hard to tell at times.  In either case, something seems to be keeping me from seeing Him clearly.  Still, there is a verse that keeps repeating in the back of my mind through it all.

And which of you by worrying can add one cubit to his stature?  If you then are not able to do the least, why are you anxious for the rest? —Luke 11:25-26

“not able to do the least” pretty much sums up my perception of my abilities to sort any of this out right now.  I think, maybe, God is really trying to convince me that it’s not my abilities that matter, anyway.  Shouldn’t I already know this by now?