I don't love having this thing just sit empty... The May, 2010 heading looming there at the top, all the way into March, 2011.
But it has been a difficult year for words. A difficult year for updates.
I knew that this year would be hard before it even began... our ever-present quest for a baby, our quest that, month after month, proves to be beyond our control, hangs over me like a cloud. A cloud of bitterness, longing, anger, jealousy.... a cloud of pretty much everything I hate. But it won't go away.
And this has affected my contentment and joy toward teaching. I have been so, so hard on myself this year. I tell myself and believe the most horrible things about my competency at my job. I can't be as bad as I think I am, but I still believe it.
A few weeks ago, my doctor upped my anxiety meds. It seems to be helping. I've had a few good weeks. Maybe they will stick.
So there I am. It's been a rough year. I could say more about it, but it gets pretty repetitive.
And yet... every once in a while, I feel peace. I feel hope. I feel a presence strip away my cloud and surround me with love. He's always here, and I sometimes feel him. He's always with me, and I sometimes catch a glimpse of him leading me to himself. He is always good, and I sometimes see proof of that. And it gives me hope that this year will be for the good of my heart, for the good of our story.
But it has been a difficult year for words. A difficult year for updates.
I knew that this year would be hard before it even began... our ever-present quest for a baby, our quest that, month after month, proves to be beyond our control, hangs over me like a cloud. A cloud of bitterness, longing, anger, jealousy.... a cloud of pretty much everything I hate. But it won't go away.
And this has affected my contentment and joy toward teaching. I have been so, so hard on myself this year. I tell myself and believe the most horrible things about my competency at my job. I can't be as bad as I think I am, but I still believe it.
A few weeks ago, my doctor upped my anxiety meds. It seems to be helping. I've had a few good weeks. Maybe they will stick.
So there I am. It's been a rough year. I could say more about it, but it gets pretty repetitive.
And yet... every once in a while, I feel peace. I feel hope. I feel a presence strip away my cloud and surround me with love. He's always here, and I sometimes feel him. He's always with me, and I sometimes catch a glimpse of him leading me to himself. He is always good, and I sometimes see proof of that. And it gives me hope that this year will be for the good of my heart, for the good of our story.
Even if you only post once a year I will be so glad to read it. I especially loved your last paragraph today. He is always there and always good, and sometimes - sometimes we get to see it. And this is faith, isn't it? And it is miraculous and beautiful and also like a long, slow death.
ReplyDeleteI appreciate you friend. So much!
I loved reading this today, friend. I too find it so difficult to write when I am feeling down, but sometimes it's just what I need to do. You express so beautifully the paradox of our faith. Sometimes all I want to do is believe; to REALLY trust, because my heart knows I can, and all I can do is question because my human mind is also a part of me. If I could, I would change the circumstances that have weighted you down this year, but because I can't please know that I am standing with you, believing in prayer for your heart's desire. How grateful I am that we serve a God who is so faithful, he allows us to question and wonder. Love you, friend.
ReplyDelete