Life is Hard

Tonight the children spent the night with my parents. With the threat of snow, which amounted to nothing but rain and slush here in the Fort Worth area, they were all worked up before naptime thinking they weren’t going to get to spend the night. It all worked out because the roads between here and Dallas were fine.

Now Jeff and I are hard at work on our respective studies. He’s working on a paper for his ph.d. application; I’m working on preparation for the class I volunteered to teach. I’m having second thoughts about me being the right fit, but it’s a little too late. I wanted to be a part of a class on suffering and trials and since nothing was being offered at our church, I volunteered to teach it. Though I feel like I’m certainly an expert in the area of suffering, I feel quite ill-equipped to teach it. Yes, we have a workbook and I have several other books I’ve read, too, to pull from, and though really I just wanted the accountability to get through it, I’m now asking myself why I’m the one teaching. My mother used to tell me that if God placed something on my heart to be a part of, and no one else stepped up, perhaps he was telling me to do it. Sage.

I’ve studied, put most of my powerpoint together, read, underlined, sought Scripture, etc. and though I feel pretty good about the content of my preparation, there’s something in my spirit that seems to be lacking.

I feel a tinge of despondency.

It crept up today in the middle of our worship service. I think it’s because I realized today’s date and that tomorrow marks a very significant day for me. It was my baby’s due date.

Heartache of heartaches.

My good friend, Linda (and I’ll have to write a special blog about her story) and her two-month old baby, Eden, came to visit this weekend. It’s the first time I’ve held such a tiny baby in a long time. I didn’t cry, but my heart was so full. It was such a tender time, and yet today, the pain hit me with full force. Do you mothers remember the joy, the complete contentment, the very rightness, of cradling your own precious newborn in your arms? You watched longingly for the first sign of recognition, the cocked head toward your voice, the first real smile, and the inability of anyone but you to give comfort. You were in awe over the tiny fingers and toes and you just couldn’t stop kissing that sweet little face with those cherubic soft cheeks.

My throat is constricting and that unusually large lump in my throat, though most unwelcome, is back.

I feel the irrepressible and sudden urge to uppercut a punching bag. I feel so angry and so sad all at the same time and I don’t know what to do with these emotions.

July 21st marked D-Day for us. Everything changed on that day. Everything.

I feel a bitter root in my soul. It’s been there awhile. My counselor had me read a book on bitterness. Did you know that bitterness comes as a result of something that’s happened to us, when someone sins against us? (How to Be Free From Bitterness, 9) My response, to feel bitter, though is sin, my sin. It infiltrates everything: my relationship with my husband, my children, my extended family, my church family, etc. If I keep this bitter root inside, I hurt everyone around me. It doesn’t matter what anyone has done to me; I do not have a right to keep it and cherish it because it is rotten and it will decay me. God commands I get rid of it. And, I’m trying.

I’ve confessed it. I got down on my knees before Holy God today and asked him to uproot it. I want to be free from every harbored ill-feeling I’ve ever held on towards anyone for anything, great or small. I don’t want to live as an unforgiving person. I want to be joy-filled again. I want to see my hope in my eternal circumstances and not this horizontal junk that’s bottlenecking up in my heart.

But, I think I need a little help. I think I need a sledge-hammer to my heart…I want it soft and vulnerable, not hard, cracked, and calloused. Please pray that God will break any crusty shell I’ve held onto and that as I practice forgiveness and love, the bitterness I feel will simply not be able to withstand God’s great love and the truth it brings. I want the bitterness to come crashing down as the walls of Jericho did when the Israelites blasted their trumpets.

Come, Lord. Quickly come.