Last week was wild busy and I didn’t have time to think about the downward spiral my mind was caught in, the rapid free fall my thoughts had given way to. How does a depression that I can count on coming always manage to catch me off guard and suck me in before I realize how bad it’s gotten? It came early this year with the realization that the holidays would be spent without Amania and I just couldn’t ever get off that emotional roller coaster. And last Saturday night it all came crashing down. Matt and I sat at dinner and I cried over my chimichanga. We talked long about kids and marriage and life and ministry and so much more. We went to bed, depleted and numb, and I opted to stay home on Sunday morning, unable to come up with the energy to put on my “church face” and pretend like all was well when absolutely nothing seemed “well” at all.
So, God and I, we sat and talked over coffee and the Bible and a legal pad. I listened and I took notes. And I recognized the lie that the devil had been whispering to my soul for months. I don’t know when it happened, I know it sneaks in from time to time, but I picked up that old lie again – that lie that I have to be someone else, we have to be someone else. That their marriage is better; that their kids are better behaved, better adjusted. That her home is cleaner, better decorated, more peaceful. That she’s in better shape, seems to have it all together, never gets discouraged. That her husband does this and their kids do that and she never seems to struggle, so what’s wrong with us? That in everything, in every way, I have failed.
And God, He so gently reminded me that He made me just the way I am. Yes, I am expected to grow, mature, and become more like His Son, but that doesn’t mean becoming some other created being. When He made me so long ago, He knew what my bent would be – how I would love, how I would mother, how I would teach, serve, live. He knew I would struggle with patience and I am confident that He laughed just a little as He placed each girl in my womb and in my heart at my general intolerance for drama (other than my own, of course). When He gave me a husband whose primary love languages are physical touch and encouraging words, He knew that those would be the two love languages hardest for me to give. He knew. And I can rest in the fact that He knew. I don’t have to compare our home, our family, our school to the family down the street or across the country or on the other side of the computer screen. I can rest confidently in what He is doing right here, right now, in our home, in our family. He knew exactly what our strengths and our struggles would be when He brought us all together. I can also trust that He’s not finished. He will keep working in us and through us and for us – for His glory and our good. So I choose to rest confidently in Him and in His promises. He is faithful.
For His Glory ~