The Path Shrouded by Night I Walk

A few weeks ago, I had the privilege to stay with a dear friend in Texas while on vacation.  It was such a  treasure to be with her and to watch her live life a little.  I was beyond amazed at how she was able to do so much in her day. Her house was so wonderfully clean.  It felt amazing to be able to relax and spend time with Jesus in her home, and I realized I needed to have that kind of cleanliness and organization in my life.  She completely inspired me!

So much so, that I reached out to her tonight.  I reached out to a friend I looked up to, and I was vulnerable with her because as I spoke with her, I realized my emotions felt very broken, and I didn’t even fully realize it.

Today started like a wonderful Sabbath Saturday.  I watched 9-10 glorious hours of Anne of Green Gables.  From 13 year-old Miss Shirley all the way to 20-something Mrs. Blythe. I loved just about every minute of it.  I laughed.  I cried.  I yelled at the TV a little, even when I knew what was going to happen in the end.  I engrossed myself into a fancy story for a day, and I indulged into one of my weaknesses.  Movies.

My husband arrived home as I was finishing the last movie, and as we try to plan dinner, he makes a comment.  It was no harsh or untrue comment.  It was spoken with respect, and it was just a matter-of-fact statement, but its truth struck deep.  It was like I had been standing in front of a mirror that was poorly lit, and he had flashed a bright light at it and exposed what I knew was true about myself. He simply said, “You were home all day.”

I wanted to defend myself with things like, “Yeah, but you knew I was going to do this movie marathon today…” However, that didn’t seem justified.  The fact is this: I spent the first week after getting back from Texas cleaning the house like crazy.  I was excited.  I was on track.  I was feeling accomplished.  I got a lot of work done, and I was able to leisurely chip away at things and spend time with Jesus for hours at a time. Then work started again.

So, as I was cooking Stephen’s meatballs tonight for his meatball sub and doing the dishes, I began to cry.  I let it the house and all my plans fall apart again, and I reached out and asked my friend how she does it. And then Holy Spirit said, “Just do 30 minutes every day.”  You are right, God.  Clean for 30 minutes every day, and I will learn to maintain the house.  Just 30 minutes. At the moment, I didn’t really know why I was crying.  Then I started to reflect on my first week at work when everything fell apart.

When I get home from work, I have no desire to keep up the house.  I have no desire to do dishes just to turn around and mess it up again.  I have no desire to go to the gym.  And worse of all, if I do find the strength to do it all, It eats away at my time, and I feel like I am living with my husband, but we aren’t actually getting any quality time together. We are River and The Doctor with opposite time streams that cross for a brief hour or thirty minutes before I start shutting down for the night. I wish he knew both how much I wish I could stay awake and be with him and how much I need my break-of-dawn time with Jesus in the morning.  There are times I feel guilty to go to bed early enough to wake up early with Jesus because I want to spend time with my husband. My husband is a night owl.  I am an early bird.

And it is like a snowball that went out of control as I reflected on work and realized just how draining it felt for me.  Perhaps I would feel more able to do the work I need to at home if I didn’t come home feeling emotionally drained. Why does it do that to me now?  Is it because I have been doing it for two and a half years and yielded no fruit?  Is it because I put my heart and soul into teaching most of last year at one school and they didn’t even have the decency to interview me?  Is it because I am no longer sure about teaching?  I feel like I am walking down a path shrouded by night, and I can’t even see the stars.

As I talked with my friend, I said, “I want to find the strength to do what needs to be done for my body, mind, and soul, but it seems… impossible.”  And as I typed that word in my text, I felt God drawing me to His presence saying, “Rely on me.  I make all things possible.  Come drink in my love.” He instantly reminded me of what He was doing and how He was removing that faith-crippling word.  God has been showing me areas where the world, the devil, or myself have spoken that dreadful word and where I have allowed its unbelieving seed to plant in the depths of my heart and soul.

With God, I will be healed.  He is the creative God who is creating a new womb inside me. It is not impossible.

With God, I will get a job I feel satisfied in.  I must daily rely on Him for strength to trust again. It is not impossible

With God, I will learn to care for my home, my body, and my mind.  I will learn to care for my whole self.  It is not impossible.

With God, I will learn to better tell Stephen how I love and adore him, even when we are passers in the night. It is not impossible.

God, remove that faith-crippling word from my vocabulary and forgive my unbelief. All things are possible!


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