Today is January 3rd. Apparently some come into this time of year brimming with optimistic determination and tenacity as they consider their dreams and goals for a new year.
I am just not. Not this year. Not today. Not me. Instead I'm feeling my weakness, my less-than-ness, my "who am I to tackle that pile of clothes, that stack of dishes, that willful tantrum-mad, foaming at the mouth 2 year old?"
This is me today. This is me heartsick.
My heartsickness comes on with such acuteness, and goes to the depth of me. It is bone deep. My head is heavy, my heart is weary, my flesh is needy. I told my husband, I feel like a rotten tree. I am still standing, but my innards are all spongy with decay. What do you do when you are rotting from the inside out, and yet you are the foundation for others to grow? I have these little people who NEED. They are lovely and fun and smart and strong. But they are relentless need-ers. And so much of what they need is me. Me to be solid, me to be constant, me to be very much UN-rotten. They need an anchor, and yet I find myself feeling so very unbound.
"I turn my eyes to the hills. Where does my help come from? My help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth."
What does that mean? Where is the Lord's help? I am trying to find it.
I lift my head, I find the horizon. You know how the Lord came today? Through this. Through finding myself in these words. Through remembering who I am. Because I am not anyone's anchor. I'm not. I was never meant to be. Thank God, I am not ever meant to be the anchor.
I am just another sojourner. Some seasons in this life are incredibly tender. I am in a tender place. My sweet children, also traveling hard and scary roads, are very much in need of grounding. But that reassuring consistency that they so need too often only finds my mushy tree rot.
Perhaps my job in this time is to show them how to trust the true anchor. How to pray in sorrow. How to love myself and my God and my family even in the heavy moments. Even in the mess. Even in the unbound, heartsick muck I find all around me this New Year.
Because He is my hope. And hope is my anchor. Grounding me. Sustaining me. Lifting my head.
