(Funny thing. I started writing this blog Tuesday. After two half days of work. Let me tell you what has happened since then.)
Wednesday I woke up ready to keep the momentum on the poop job. Around 4:45pm I felt like a kid skipping down the street with a shiny red balloon knowing my work was soon to be finished. I was smiling, exhausted and happy. All day long I had been pushing myself as hard as I could, counting down the hours. “Stacie you only have _____ hours left. You can do this.” Actually throughout the day I heard my dad’s voice in my head telling me I could do it. Sweet.
Anyway…Then I found out that what I thought was our last day was unfortunately, not our last day at all. Because of the enormity of the project our day off before departing Albania became yet another work day. I find this out as a work day of 7.5 hours of shoveling pig feces was drawing to a close. Oh and one more thing. I didn’t get to end that day at the normal time either. We had to work for an additional hour.
Imagine the scene. I’m knee-deep in poop but it’s also in my hair, on my face and every inch of my clothes, arms and legs and I find out I’m not actually done. My entire body was aching and my muscles were trembling. It was like someone came along and popped my shiny red balloon, knocked my ice-cream cone out of my hand.
And today just got worse.
And then it happened.
It was temporary. A fleeting moment in time. But it happened.
I wanted to give up.
I am empty. I am drained. I have none left. No more of me. I have been pushed to my physical limit.
I lift my hand to wipe the hot tears running down my cheeks and I smell poop. I don’t think it is ever going to leave.
With me forever, the smell of pig Waste.
This has been one of the craziest weeks of my life. My body has never done work this hard. I have been covered head to toe in poop. I am just worn out. Plain and simple. Drained.
I gave Him all I had today. And what I had to give Him was a product of His supernatural strength and endurance. My hands are split open. My body aches. My emotions are maxed out. I wanted to quit so many times. I dropped my food four times at lunch because I couldn’t keep my arm up. I started to laugh because I didn’t know what else to do…then I was crying. Hot, salty tears mixing with my laughter. But I knew I couldn’t give up. Yes I was four days in. Yes, in the natural I have nothing left. But He tells me:
“When I am weak, then I am strong.”
And today I was weak. Weak so many times I wanted to sit down and cry. I walk past my squad mates this week and they look at me with a mix of pity/disgust/fear I might get too close. I could smell myself. I STILL smell myself. I wanted to stop. I wanted to shower and rest. But that fire in my soul won’t let me give up because it is tough. It won’t let me throw in the towel just because they say they understand if I quit.
One challenge, one struggle at a time I will embrace His process of refinement. I will say yes. I can do this for Him. Because He gave His life for me and asks me to give Him mine in return I will do it. I don’t want to sometimes. I think I know better. I think my plan is greater. But in my heart, I know the truth. I have hidden His words of truth deep in my soul and I know that His way, though not always easy, is always best.
So I wake up and I lay my life on His altar. It is His.
If His plan for my day is laying by the Adriatic Sea with my squad on my off day: yes.
If His plan for my day looks like holding beautiful children: yes.
But what if His plan looks like another day of wading out in to a rank pen to shovel poop? yes.
But my muscles are shot? Yes.
My hands are shredded? Yes.
I can’t do it. Yes
I can work like a man when I need to (my new name is She-beast). But I am still a woman and right now all I want to do is cry. I am so thankful, when I can’t carry myself, He is there. He catches every tear. He heals every wound. He is. He is my strength. He is my help.
I am weak. I am empty. I am exhausted.
But He…He is God and He is enough.
