Ugh. Ok friends I can’t post out of nowhere without mentioning that we haven’t posted much in the last year(s). I promise you, at any given time I have at least 5 blog posts floating around my head, waiting to get out. I am just undisciplined. I promise by summer, I’ll have at least 5 more for you (if we have any readers left).
For the past 6-8 months I’ve been experiencing a comforting renewal and regeneration in my faith life. After a couple years of beating myself up about not being where I used to be, I finally let go of the times I was stronger and just accepted the now. No easy feat for someone who continuously wants to be better and do better in everything. But I am not in a competition with myself, and no matter the crisis or tragedy that I previously overcame through Jesus, comparing myself to myself was getting me nowhere. After a long dry season of feeling like God wasn’t speaking to me and wondering why I was more often a hot mess crying on my bathroom floor than pouring over my Bible and breathing in the truth of Jesus, somehow I let go. Through deepened and almost constant prayer and stepping back my from my intense focus on my desire for children and subsequent pain of those unmet desires while opening myself up to the pain and needs of others, I could finally hear God again.
So as I was basking in my resurgence of faith I was surprised to find myself hit with lies from the enemy. Lies that sound so true, it’s tempting to believe them. I was very tempted to return to my former place of wallowing- usually on the bathroom floor, because I thought Mark couldn’t hear my sobs and would just assume I was struggling with tummy problems and not pressing my face into a towel attempting to both muffle my sobs and drown out the pain. Sobbing isn’t wrong, friends, but moving in and making camp in a place of wallowing to the point that Jesus seems like a distant stranger is. I was beginning to believe that I had left such moments behind. Until that Sunday.