Here’s what I wanted: I wanted to write my last blog pertaining to The Race with a neat bow and crisp clean lines on the big gift that was my life. I wanted to tell all my supporters that I was fully funded, that I had several job opportunities lined up. Jesus and I had never been better and that He was teaching me new and wonderful things on the daily. I wanted to inform all of my faithful friends and followers of this blog that I had no new surprises when I came home, that things were just as I left it, and that yes indeed nothing beats an American meal.
But that’s the furthest thing from the truth.
The truth is this: I came fresh off that plane onto American soil to be greeted my Mother whose face had swollen due to an extremely rare auto immune muscle disease, and that after mere weeks after being home, I had to call 911 so she could be admitted into the hospital. The truth is, is that my community has exploded into a million little pieces as people having babies and getting married and moving far away has both broken my heart and has made me beyond ecstatic for the new chapters in their lives. I don’t have amazing job offers lined up, I’m lucky if I get a babysitting gig and yes, I still have several thousand to fully fund me for The Race.
Spiritually? Jesus feels far. So far away. I’m afraid I wouldn’t know His face if He walked into my room right now and that scares me, a lot. It’s partially my fault, I own that, the woman of spiritual discipline I was the last several months of The Race would be so ashamed of the woman who barely picks up her Bible once a week in the 4 weeks I’ve been home.
Forgive me, I’m aware of all the complaining it sounds like I’m doing, I’m understanding of the annoyance my tone of writing has right now.
Right now.
Not forever, not for the rest of the year. Just right now. I’m allowed, you’re allowed, we’re all allowed to be frustrated and angry that life isn’t exactly how we pictured it to be. Wallowing in it, choosing to stay in it, that’s where I lack sympathy for people. I don’t feel bad for the person whose life is “woe is me” and is reflected in everything from their attitude to their Instagram feed (post that emo quote about how no one understands the hurt behind your smile one more time, I dare you) No I don’t feel bad for that guy, and I don’t expect you to feel bad for me either.
I used to have a really big problem with people feeling sorry for me. I hated sympathy from other people because it made me feel weak, that I was incompetent (hello, character issue alert) but then I tried something, I started to tell people. The people I have told about my Mom and my issues with Jesus have been some of the most supportive people in my life. There isn’t a day that goes by without someone from The Race or home asking me about my transition back into America or asking me how my Mom is doing. Something of magic happens when you let others in.
This isn’t a “it’s okay to be vulnerable, let people in!” blog post because I’ve read enough of those to last me a lifetime. No, this is a “life is crappy sometimes and that’s okay” piece. It’s what you’re doing with that crappy situation that makes all the difference. Do I believe that I’ll get a job soon? Yes. Do I believe that I’ll be fully funded? Yes. Do I believe my Mom will get better? Yes. Do I believe that my relationship with Jesus will improve? Heck. Yes.
How? How can I believe this?
Because I will work hard, I will submit those applications, I will fight to be funded, I will pray for my Mother and I will put Jesus first in my everyday life. I won’t wallow in sadness; I won’t wish for yester years or start sentences with “if only…”. I will because I have the freedom of choice and I choose to believe in a Hope greater.
“I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.” Romans 8:18
