“Forget joy!” I sobbed, “I need hope!” I was sitting at my dining room table amidst the wreckage that is a home with three children. They were outside playing, completely oblivious to the tears pouring down my face, dripping on the dog’s head. I am sure she was curious as to why I was talking out loud to no one she could see.
And, that’s exactly what I was doing, talking aloud to God. “It’s all pointless,” I told Him, “Nothing I do helps, I’m failing my kids, I’m failing You,” I cried, and even now the tears threaten to rise again. You see, being a single mom, one who so desperately wants to please God and provide well for her family, is sometimes too much for me to endure. I mean, seriously!
My friend asked me this morning if I cry when I write these and I told her, “No,” because generally, I don’t. But, this wound is still raw. This ouch still stings, fiercely. I am overwhelmed, I am sinking, and as much as I know the Savior can pull me out of the waves that wash over me, I just can’t seem to see His hand. Maybe if He slapped me with it, hope would return because I’d see Him right there.
I’m not trying to throw myself a pity party, mind you, I am just being as real and vulnerable as I can because I decided in 6th grade (way too many years ago to think about now) that I didn’t want other people to feel the way I felt. That’s pretty early to grasp your calling but the truth is, as many times as I can tell you my “story,” it won’t do you a bit of good until you can see my “heart” and know that you are not alone.
Does that mean I want to cry with you? Not really. I don’t like vulnerability, or emotions, any more than the next person who’s had tremendous pain. Yet, I’m perfectly willing to do it for the sake of providing you the comfort I know you need in the midst of the invisibility, less than’s, and hopelessness. And for the record, it’s not hopeless. It never is, even when it feels like that.
I’m not trying to sugar coat your angst any more than I would glaze over my own. I am burdened, I am weighed down, and I feel crushed, but I know the truth. The truth is God wins. That all this may be chasing after the wind but in the end, He will be glorified. Now, I’m not claiming I’ve been able to transfer the “I know’s” to the “I feel’s,” but that doesn’t make it any less true.
Maybe we both need this prayer:
Father, we hurt. Life has sideswiped, tackled, injured, broken, beaten, attacked, betrayed, and just plain ole screwed us. We are battered. We can’t hardly stand, and that’s why we’re on our knees before You. You have the strength to get us through this. You have the answers to all these predicaments we’re in. Be mighty to save as Your Word says You are. Comfort us like a mother, lift us up from these ashes, Abba. We need Your warm embrace and if we can’t feel Your presence right now, send us someone who will be that hug, that comfort, that encouragement in Your Name. Sometimes the miracles we need are the ones that wipe away the tears, Abba. Send us that kind of miracle and then show us what to do about everything else. We cry out to You in Jesus’ Name. Amen.