August

A month I dread all year, and look forward to all year.

My heart is raw, my mind is preoccupied. I just want this month to be over with. There is so much I want to do for the triplets birthday. I still need to shop for the gifts we bring to the hospital. I still need to pay the baker for the cupcakes. I need to plan our day out for that Wednesday.

I'm pretty sure we are going to the zoo this year. I pray the weather holds up. I really would love for a cool, breezy day. I would really love for my children to have slept the night before so we can enjoy the day, and I would really, really love for the zoo to be semi empty as I'm pretty sure my emotions are unpredictable and I will find myself crying at the most random things.

I feel like God is about to do something in my heart. Not sure what that is, but He's sure been working on things inside for a while now. I've been so incredibly sad lately. Almost depressed. Who has time to be depressed!? I sure don't. I try to hide from it, run from it, keep myself extra busy, but I'm burning out fast. I will have moments, like driving alone, or sitting in my backyard while my children are playing, that I have this overwhelming peace. Like I can sit back and enjoy this part of life. It's quickly fleeting though. Whether guilt is chasing it away, grief is scaring it away, or satan is stealing it away, or a combination of all three.....it's quickly fleeting. I do recognize those moments though.

That's why I believe the Lord is doing a work in me. He's mending my heart, but I'm quite sure that my heart is fighting back. With a little help from the creator of lies. I am in a different place than I was last year, and the year before, and definitely the year before that. As each August approaches, I feel like I'm suffocating. I feel like the world is closing in on me, but at the same time I feel hope. I feel like I have an opportunity to share what a great God He is. I find it hard to share sometimes because I slack off diving into the Word. I let anger and bitterness take root, and then the suffocating begins.

My first response is to retreat. To run. To hide. But I can't. I have children who need me, I have a job, a husband, responsibilities.  I cling to the moments of peace I feel. I try to find them, search for them. It's like I'm in a dark room and lights come on quickly, and I can get a glimpse of the doorway out, but then the lights quickly go out again. I feel around the walls, I take small, cautious steps toward where I think I remember the door being. Panic sets in as I can't find that door. Reality slips away and I feel trapped, then the lights flash on again quickly. Hope is restored. Even if for a moment. I'm reminded I'm not here to find my way alone. I'm not without guidance and Light. Those moments of light will become longer, I pray. The times of panic will lessen, and I'll find my way out. This room is called Grief. And it's a large room, with tall walls, a narrow doorway, little light, and not enough oxygen. There's room for growth, but only when you grasp it. There's ways out, but only if you work hard at finding them.

"Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze." Isaiah 43:1-2