If you think I’m handling life well, you’d be wrong.
The truth is, I lock myself out of the house. I forget my computer. I leave my debit card at the coffee shop I go to for lunch at 3:00 pm – (I lost track of time) + (a coffee shop doesn’t serve lunch). I put the baby down crying so I can go scream into my pillow. I have random bruises and scratches all over my legs and arms because being so tired makes me clumsy.
I completely space out in the middle of a work assignment and forget what I was working on. I snap at my husband 20 minutes after he brings me a cup of tea and asks if there’s anything else I need. I leave my keys hanging in the front door. I put mascara on only one eye, and don’t realize it until I get home. I blur my words together when I’m talking, and don’t realize it until people ask, “What?”
I forget what I’m saying mid-sentence, and forget what I’m doing mid-action.
My brain seems absent these days, but not my emotions. Nope, those suckers are throwing me on a wild ride every single hour.
I’m hanging on by a thread.
I’m doing life, but barely. I feel that at any point, I’m going to collapse. As I’m sitting here typing this, I feel like I’m about to faint.
The baby still wakes every couple of hours. When she does sleep, I lay awake with insomnia. I have iron-deficiency anemia, which makes the days as hard as the nights. I go about them feeling like a zombie. The physical toll that sleep deprivation paired with anemia has taken on me, makes me feel as frail as an 80-year-old woman, who also has to frequently lift and carry and hold a 16 pound infant, heavy bags and car seats and a laptop to the point of my back and shoulders screaming in pain.
The season in which I feel at my absolute weakest, demands that I be incredibly strong. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. It feels like a brutal testing.
If anyone wonders how I’m a mom of a colicky 4-month-old, working 2 jobs and writing all the things and having dates with my husband and loving life, here’s your answer: I’m not.
I’m so weak. I’m not even sure how I’m alive right now, to be honest. Am I being dramatic? It sure doesn’t feel like it.
The only explanation I can give for any of the strength I have is this: grace.
Grace has been my lifeline. Grace is what keeps me getting out of bed in the morning. Some days I’m not sure I have the strength to do it, and yet – I somehow still do it. Without grace, none of this would be possible. My life would be in shambles.
I’m not rocking it. Sometimes I feel like so many other women would have been a better choice for this, better able to handle all this. Why did God choose me for this? I’m not the right person for the job.
I don’t handle this well. I just don’t. And yet, God has seen fit to place me in these circumstances. Not because I can do a good job here, but because this is how I learn that I’m completely dependent on him. Without him, I wouldn’t make it. This is how I learn to lean on him for every ounce of strength. This is how I let my weakness make him great – how it shows that he deserves glory, not me.
The point of all of this, is that I have purposed my life to be a canvas on which the greatness of God may be painted – that the world may see him, and know him. And that painting is a lot more vibrant when I go through trying, stretching times – because He is made great in my weakness.
You don’t have to rock it. You can struggle through it. You don’t have to show the world how qualified and equipped you are and how good of a job you’re doing. If you’re barely making it – you can lose the pressure to show a brave face.
Because when you show your real face, others are free to show theirs, and in it all – God shows his.