I tried not to write this post, I really did.
I put on my fuzzy socks, let my crazy hair loose and went to bed. I threw all my thoughts and emotions in the “To be dealt with tomorrow” folder and attempted to fall asleep.
Well here I am, writing my little heart out because it’s time I did. It’s time I let surface what’s been eating away at me lately.
I don’t like where I’m at. I don’t like who I am, what I’m feeling, thinking, doing. I have lost all hope and desire to invest in people, have begun to shut life out and succumb to my fears and past struggles. I’ve doubted a lot–whether or not I’m doing World Race for the right reasons. If my relationship with God is even real, and if it is, why he seems so distant. If my frustration and impatience with people is more about my fear of being rejected than what they’re actually doing or who they are.
And I think the worst part is that I’m ok with all of this. Apathy has a beautifully numbing effect.
Am I the problem? Am I the reason all I feel is irritability and dissatisfaction? Have I, in my pity party, pushed God away, made him feel unwelcome like I have everyone else?
I’ll admit pity parties can be really fun–till you run out of food and decorations and party guests. Eventually people grow tired of your complaining, the cake goes stale, and the negative atmosphere becomes suffocating. And who’s left to clean up the mess? You are. I am.
Two things can happen in this moment: I can either remain a terrible hostess and not clean up the stack of dirty plates or pick up all the garbage and get on with my life. Try again. Recognize that party as a failure and forgive myself for it.
[Not quite stale cake, but sometimes life throws fake turkey at you and you have to learn to cope somehow]
All delicious analogies aside (clearly cake is on the brain), I have been learning to be patient. With other people, yes, but more so with myself. It’s hard to be a person you don’t like, but you know what? I don’t have to stay this way. If I truly believe Jesus dwells in me, I won’t. He’ll change me, continue to sanctify me, and–very obviously–teach me patience through the process.
Times like these are some of the most difficult because it’s hard to see the growth, the change. Everything seems stagnant and it’s almost as if I’ve lost all ability to feel goodness and hope. But I know that I can’t give up. I can’t give in. There will come times of bountiful parties, evident growth, happiness exploding from the piñata within.
And then there are times like these–the in between phases–in which I must remain determined to grow and get through despite everything inside me telling me otherwise. Constant, faithful, hopeful.
Patient.
Cake, anyone?
