Tuesday, March 08, 2016

Spring

Oh goodness, I am so grateful for the beautiful weather we are having these days! I've been really struggling the last week or so with some big-picture issues and feeling very despairing--yesterday was just a total bummer of a day with some awful news that eclipsed last week's awful news (that left me absolutely gutted and shattered, and in tears for an ENTIRE day), and today I was so grateful to wake up to a world that is rejoicing and making itself over anew. My tulips are cautiously poking up through the ground; the little boys were outside almost the entire day and the big kids joined them after school, and we ate lunch and dinner outside, then Neil set up the trampoline (he sent me to take a hot bath while he did it, which my aching muscles sure appreciated after running 11 miles this afternoon during naptime!), and the kids jumped away to their hearts' content until the stars came out and we rounded everyone up for baths and bed (it's nice that the stars come out at 7 PM--must admit I am NOT looking forward to daylight savings time changes coming this weekend!).

And please forgive the vague-blogging. These big weighty things on my mind are just so tender and so personal that I'm trying to process them myself and don't have much to say about them to the world at large. Yet another reminder that the older I get, the more I realize that I really don't have things figured out nor does life operate according to the rigid plans I've made for myself.

But there are other things that I'm thinking about so much these days--like the fact that Abigail is starting middle school next year, and it's this big milestone that I feel so unprepared for her to hit. I'm so excited for her, because she is excited, and at the same time it's so terrifying to me to think of navigating something so entirely new, and something where I am giving up even more control over her environment and proximity to our home. It's a very real reminder that our years with her under our roof are increasingly limited. She and I were talking quite a bit today after school about what she wants to do next year--she's thinking she'd like to try out band and cross-country, and asked me about decorating lockers, and whether I think it will be hard for her to reintegrate into the mainstream classrooms (she tested into both advanced math and English, but they drop the full-time high-ability classrooms in middle school, so she'll be back in the mainstream classrooms for the other classes, and she's pretty nervous about it since she doesn't know those kids at all or what to expect from having different teachers all day).

The post-run exhaustion is really catching up with me now, but it's been a good day. I have a good life. There are so many parts of it that worry and frustrate me, and drive me absolutely insane at times, and I think "how can this possibly be the life I have willfully chosen for myself?"but I truly am grateful for the opportunity I have to learn and to grow and to be stretched. And for the simple joys from today like watching my sons joyfully dig in the mud and eating a plate of carbonara outside on the patio under the twinkle lights.

And while I don't often wax religious here, I've been thinking about this over and over and over again the last few weeks. Do you remember the story in Mark of the father who brings his son to the Savior, asking him to heal his son? Christ says to him, "If thou canst believe, all things are possible unto him that believeth." And the next verse says "And straightaway the father of the child cried out, and said with tears, 'Lord, I believe; help thou my unbelief.'"

When I read this verse, I imagine that the father isn't responding with that sentence right away--his cry is more of a nonverbal plea for help, and then he responds, "I believe..." and maybe a pause as he realizes that his belief is inadequate to the task of healing his son, and then pleads, with tears in his eyes, "Help thou my unbelief."

That's what I'm doing these days--pleading with the Lord to make up the difference between what I can do, the faith that I have, and the faith that is required to accomplish the miracles that I need in my life.

Help thou my unbelief.









1 comment:

Jen Bosen said...

Yes to all of this. Help my unbelief. And life is good. And hard. And good. And I'm sending you virtual hugs.

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