In case you haven’t heard in the last 3 months of silence, we are moving soon. It isn’t just a pack up the U-Haul move, either. It is an “I’m leaving on a jet plane,” kind of move. It is a go and sell all you own, box up your sentimental belongings for storage, and start all over in a new culture move. I know all moves can be stressful, but this has been like a drive through the mountains. It has been a fun and beautiful adventure to see God work out the details, but it also is stressful not knowing what lies around the bend in the road.
And to be honest, I would probably be just fine if we only had the move. But no. Life doesn’t work that way. I started a temporary, independently contracted job that is extremely time demanding. It is stressful. This is a job that I have had for the last two summers without near the amount of stress. That is mostly due to a summer full of traveling to see people and invest in them before the big move and packing. Lots. Of. Packing. Which means the things I did all summer long last year I am now doing on the run throughout the program this year. And I just can’t handle it this year.
I have learned something about myself in all of this. When I break and buckle under the stress, I get mean. I absolutely hate it. I want to escape the world and not think about it all, but I can’t. If I did, it would never get done. And I find myself caught in this stress cycle where I am not having time with God, so I am not easing my stress, which then makes me more irritable, which then makes those ugly flesh tendencies to rear its head, until all my emotions are rampant and I’m weeping and breaking down, to then feel guilty for how I have treated everyone under the stress, which causes more stress on top of the ongoing stress, which I continue to be unable to deal with because my way of dealing with it is taking a cup of coffee and escaping the world by reading the Word and journaling for an hour, so rather than filling my spirit, I empty my spirit, and the vicious cycle continues until all I see is the ugliness of the flesh I so wish I could kill, crucify, deny, and ignore, but there it is, ugly and exposed. I. Hate. It.
I hate that I am so deep in this stress not knowing who I have hurt or how my words came across or who I need to apologize to. It feels like I am lost without hope, without light, and I’m drowning in it. There is just too much responsibility on my soldiers. Take out the dog. Clean the basement. Sort through the boxes. Pack the bags. Work 12 hours a day. Do laundry. Have I even showered in a week?
Does your grace reach me down here, God? Does your love reach my ugliness, God? Can you make it all right? I sure can’t. I’m crying out, God. Save me from myself before I implode. I never wanted to put stress and flesh on the throne of my heart. I want you to be center stage, on the throne, ruler of my heart. So kick me out, and take control, Lord. Please, take control.