This season in my life has been dim. I wait for the clouds to migrate, but they seem content to stay. I fall asleep each night and wake each morning with my heart tender like a bee sting, my sweet father on my mind and his passing from this world still incomprehensible to me. I cannot brush my teeth or soap my face without my mind swarming with “what-if” and “to-do” and “how can I make things better?” Our home is in renovation, our bricks were stolen, and there isn’t enough time between work, visiting with family, and a dang-good, well-earned, mid-day shut eye on the couch. For a long time, I have absentmindedly shouldered excess emotional luggage and responsibility of those around me, and for my own sake, am just learning to develop boundaries- lest I spread myself so thin, I break. I feel as though I’m treading water-water teeming with all the soiled laundry I have yet to wash, and the laundry I did not dry in time, and now need to wash again because it smells of a rotten marsh.
Alas, hard isn’t bad. Hard is just hard. And there is a silver living amidst this drudgery, much like this fresh, open window amidst this scratchy, dim hay loft. “Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:8-10 - 4 hours ago