I just had a great weekend. A lovely Ladies brunch and a couple of wonderful events on Saturday and then a power packed fantastic Sunday morning followed up by a marriage class Sunday evening followed by some fellowship over dessert with some new friends.
So then why did Monday hit the ****'s? Yes, I know I said a bad word. What is it that made me so melancholy today? I woke up crying, I woke up feeling loss....I suddenly had time to feel and sometimes that "time" is not my friend.
In the beginning of grief you can't help but feel it, but as time passes you learn to avoid it. You can't avoid it entirely(it's always there), but I try to avoid prolonged encounters with it.
I am busy, really busy. I work, I minister, I am a wife, a Mother and for the most part a lousy friend. Mostly because of the really busy part and some because I just can't seem to prioritize. I get lost in the small stuff and can't seem to make a decision about any big stuff. Most of the time I am a shell of the me, I know I can be. I don't want to do anything and don't want to do nothing. You can probably see the difficulty here?
There are no easy answers here, in this weird place. This place where grief is no longer expected from the outside world, but inside my heart it was just yesterday. This is the marathon. It was a sprint to survive. This is the marathon to thrive with the grief. To drag joy into the grief, to choose hope instead of hopelessness. This is the exchanging that has to happen daily....taking off the grave clothes and resurrecting joy.
I stand at the tomb and cry out, "DEBBIE come out!" No one answers.
Unlike Lazarus, I can't seem to find my way out of the tomb. I lay bound up in the guilt, the questions and the regrets. Let's be honest don't we all have these kinds of "weakdays" sometimes instead of "weekdays"?
In my mind I know all the answers, in my heart I know what I should do. Doing it, well on Mondays that seems extra hard. The grave clothes seem to cover me and it's hard to see my true identity. Isn't that what Satan always wants to give us, an identity crisis?
Monday becomes a weak day, not just a weekday. It's supposed to be a recovery day for me, but if I am not careful and don't govern myself well it becomes a weak day. I am too weak for the rest, to weary to hear His voice and I am suceptible to Satans whispers. Monday becomes condemnation day instead of a Holy day. Ratz, why did I let this happen again (I know better)?
So I preach the gospel to myself and I keep reminding myself this is not a sprint, it's a marathon. Just like in a marathon, I sometimes hit the wall. Today I choose to run my guts out, even though nothing in me feels like I can make it past the next mile marker. I know from experience, I can and I will. I have muscle memory with Jesus, I know how to keep moving forward. I don't know who I will be when I cross the finish line but this I know......I will cross it, even if I have to crawl across it.
So here's to all my friends who have "weakdays" sometimes instead of "weekdays". Friends, who share their struggles and remind me that tomorrow is another day and joy comes in the morning!
No comments:
Post a Comment