lunch

I ate my lunch in the back corner of the break room, facing the wall.

I couldn't keep the tears from welling up. I didn't want others to see.


I just wanted to pick up that sweet baby. Hold him. Allow him to feel someone's skin against his own -- something he hadn't felt before.

But I was just his nurse. I had to wear gloves and a gown. And he had a breathing tube that wouldn't allow being held in that way, anyway.

I wanted him to know that he was loved.

I wanted to take away the injustice that was so prevalent in his precious life.

I wanted him to know that I was so sorry.

I wanted him to know that ----- oh, lunch break's over.

*************************************************************

I cried when I got home last night.

I'm crying as I write this.

And I know I will cry again.

I'm glad that I cry about heartbreaking circumstances. It forces me to remain human when I deal with such fragile lives each day at work.

But, oh man, it's hard.

"Because your steadfast love is better than life, my lips will praise you." -- Psalm 63:3

This verse keeps ringing through my mind. Actually, if I'm being honest, I feel like this verse is a brick being thrown at me by the Lord.

I don't feel like praising God after witnessing what I witnessed yesterday at work. It's just too much, you guys. I don't have a thankful heart. I don't have a joyful heart. My lips don't want to praise Him.

But as I sit outside today in the warm sun and read through Ezekiel 36, my heart becomes softer when I read promises like these, "For behold, I am for you, and I will turn to you..." {v. 9} and, "Then the nations that are left all around you shall know that I am the Lord; I have rebuilt the ruined places and replanted that which was desolate. I am the Lord; I have spoken, and I will do it" {v. 36}.

*deep breath in, and out*

I'm forced to close my eyes and remember that the Lord is for His people. He takes brokenness, desolation, absolute and utter ruin, and brings it back to life.

Our God is as able as they come.

And so tomorrow, I will put on my scrubs, proudly wear my name badge that says "nurse" in big, bold letters, and walk into my mission field, ready to witness the great and mighty work of our Lord Jesus.

"And I will cause you to be inhabited as in your former times, and will do more good to you than ever before. Then you will know that I am the Lord." -- Ezekiel 36:11

it's too much

These past few months I have been thinking to myself over and over again that it's all too much. Life. It's too much.

I grew up hearing the phrase, "God never gives you more than you can handle." And while that phrase is meant to be an encouragement, my oh my how untrue it is. Besides, how encouraging is it to hear in your lowest moments, when it takes every ounce of energy in your being to get out of bed each.and.every.day. that God thinks you can handle what you've been given? "Good luck down there, kid. You can handle this." Eh, not so encouraging, my friends. Not so encouraging.

I had my first full-blown panic attack the night before my first shift as a nurse back in February. I could have sworn to you there was an elephant sitting on my chest and my throat was closing up, and for the first time, praying didn't make it go away. Praying didn't make my body stop shaking. Praying didn't give me back my breath or bring sleep. I thought it was maybe a one-time event, but little did I know, God was going to bring me months of small and large anxiety attacks -- and here I am now. Writing this. Shaking. With high blood pressure and a much faster, full, bounding "resting" heart rate. It's still here.

Why, God? I don't see the point in this. It feels like all too much.

I am reading through Ezekiel, and I've been stuck on the latter part of chapter 24 for days now.

The word of the Lord came to me: “Son of man, behold, I am about to take the delight of your eyes away from you at a stroke; yet you shall not mourn or weep, nor shall your tears run down. Sigh, but not aloud; make no mourning for the dead. Bind on your turban, and put your shoes on your feet; do not cover your lips, nor eat the bread of men.” So I spoke to the people in the morning, and at evening my wife died. And on the next morning I did as I was commanded {Ezekiel 24:15-18}.

Excuse me? So, God, You told Ezekiel that You were going to take his wife, the delight of his eyes, away from him, and then not even allow him to grieve? 

Ezekiel learned that there was nothing God could not ask of him. Not only did God take away his ability to speak on his own {Ezekiel 3:26}, but He then took Ezekiel's wife and Ezekiel was expected to go on as if nothing had happened, to be a sign of what was to come upon Israel. 

Man, that seems like too much for one human. God did it anyway.

This post doesn't have a happy ending as you may describe one. 

I can't rest in thinking that it will all get better, because heck, it might not! I may have this the rest of my life. 

I can't rest in thinking I will learn some greater purpose as to why I have anxiety, because I still have no idea why half the things happen on this earth! ( I really don't know much of a reason anything happens here, if I'm being honest with myself..) 

I wasn't there when God laid the foundation of the earth. I wasn't there when he commanded the mornings to begin. His ways are clearly higher than mine. His thoughts are clearly not my thoughts.

I can, however, tell you what I do know. 

I have a God that was humble enough to put on my skin, walk this life ahead of me, endure my death on the cross built for me, and grant me, freely, eternal life with Him. I know I have a God who listens to my every plea {1 John 5:15} and even collects my many, many tears {Psalm 56:8}. I have a God who is able to do anything, even if He doesn't choose to {Daniel 3:17,18}.

When my body becomes overcome with anxiety to the point where I have to stop what I'm doing, I know that God is right with me, fighting for me, handling this however He sees fit. 

I don't have an empowering "go get em!" type message. That's just not where I am right now. This is very real to me, and I know that so many people are struggling with their own forms of this. Whether it be an exhausting, seemingly never-ending stage of motherhood that leaves you completely empty at the end of the day all the while knowing the very next day will be exactly the same, or a miscarriage that is accompanied by waves of grief that are paralyzing, or the job that is so dissatisfying you feel yourself becoming a hardened, angry version of yourself, or the relationship that used to be there and just isn't anymore, or the depression that never lifts, or anything else..

PEOPLE there are so many battles we've been given by our sovereign God and they all seem to be way too much. Our frail bodies cannot go on. We have nothing left to give. We have no fight left in us. 

And that's okay.

Sometimes there aren't solutions, at least not immediate ones. 

We weren't meant to handle all that we've been given. There would be no point in a God who saves -- we can't make our own salvation or work our way to Heaven, so why should we be expected to handle this life? 

Jesus has accomplished ALL THINGS. 

And so tonight, as I'm finally falling asleep, I will know that God can feel the shakiness in my body and the heart beat that is rushing through me. I will know that He is collecting my tears and listening to my every plea for this to be lifted. I will know that He has given heavy things to His people throughout all of history, and that this will continue until this earth is made new. I will know that my God is a God who saves, and that He is capable of breathing this all away, yet may choose to let it linger a bit longer for reasons only He knows.

And I will know that through it all, God is good. That is solid, rock hard truth. I can't deny His goodness when I see His sun rise each morning -- and that is the very same God that tenderly loves my broken heart. 

Tonight, I still have anxiety. 

But also tonight, I have a God on my side.

Those things can coexist. 

"The Lord will fight for you, and you need only to be silent."
{Exodus 14:14}