September ushered in a new (and exciting!) season of changes for our family. But change is hard for our sons, both of whom have special needs. At four and two-and-a-half, their growing brains are already working overtime—and then you add in the mental chaos of all the “rules” and routines and sensory inputs around them shifting and changing. They sleep even worse than normal, and we see an uptick in challenging behaviors and meltdowns and outbursts.
Brian and I were prepared for this, but there is a BIG difference in knowing the storm is coming and weathering the actual hurricanes.
And so I have spent the last few weeks feeling battered and burned out and empty.
I’ve spent less and less time with God and more and more time being angry and frustrated with my circumstances. I became snippy and irritable and, to be completely honest, at times full of rage.
I embraced a victim mentality—a noble martyr in my own mind—telling myself that I was doing EVERYTHING and that no one cared about me or my needs. Suddenly every meal I had to make, every glass of milk I had to get, every tantrum and meltdown I had to work through, every mess I had to clean up, every dish I had to wash, every piece of clothing I had to put away, every night I didn’t get to sleep, became fuel for my self-righteous fire.
The more I lost sight of the Blessing Giver, the more I resented the blessings He’d given me.
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Earlier this week, after the house was quiet and everyone was sleeping, I found myself restless and annoyed. I was angry that I—clearly the only one who NEEDED sleep—was wide awake.
My ranting, I-do-everything-and-no-one-cares internal monologue started running again, but I just didn’t want to hear it. I was so sick of myself.
So I wrapped myself up in a thick, fuzzy blanket and stood on our deck, my head tilted back to take in the night sky. There was no moon, and the Milky Way was strewn like a swath of thick, sparkling sand across the clear black. I saw satellites doing their rounds and shooting stars streaking into nothingness.
In the face of such Beauty, my anger and self-righteousness and resentment faded away. I searched out the North Star and humbled myself once again to the One who breathed the stars into existence. I confessed and repented of my anger and selfishness. I asked for Him to help me put to death my pride and resentment and selfishness. To fill my sight and my soul with Light and Life that I might love with Love that comes only from Him.
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We are not called to die—or even live—for others until we have first died to ourselves. Because when we die to ourselves, we make room for Life that flows and fills us from Living Water. We discover the mystery of pouring ourselves out only to find that we are truly Filled.
And as we connect to this holy, eternal spring, everything we do becomes an act of worship, carries an eternal weight of joy and blessing that rests easy and light on our souls. We find we are able to make Life-giving choices both for ourselves and others. Because dying to self makes way for Peace and Redemption. Not only in our lives, but in the lives around us.
I don’t do it perfectly, but I am doing it. The days aren’t magically easier, but they are redemptive. I still lose my temper, but I am quicker to take hold of Grace. I cry less and smile more.
And I’m enjoying my kids again. Enjoying my husband. I actually want to be around them…most of the time. Gratitude fills my heart for all I’ve been blessed with to enjoy and steward. I find myself loving this crazy, hard, beautiful, uncertain, grace-filled, joy-filled life I’ve been given.
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During this transition season, I may not be writing in this space every week. And I may not be able to post on Tuesdays. Writing is an act of love and obedience for me, and I love the discipline of doing it every week. But this space is not my first—or second or even third—circle of ministry or responsibility. And when my family, my first circle, needs more of me, there is less for other areas. At least for now.
I’ll leave you with a few verses I am mulling over and meditating on these days.
Shalom, friends.
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Plant a crop of righteousness for yourselves,
harvest the fruit of unfailing love,
And break up your hard soil,
because it’s time to seek the LORD
until He comes and waters your fields with justice.
Hosea 10:12
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Come back to the Eternal One.
Say to Him, “Forgive all our sins, and take us back again.
Bring us into Your good grace so we can offer You praise and sacrifice,
the fruit of our lips.
We admit that Assyria can’t save us, nor can riding horses and chariots into battle.
We’ll never again say to idols made with our own hands, ‘You’re our gods!’
Hosea 14:2–3
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And my God will liberally supply (fill to the full) your every need according to His riches in glory in Christ Jesus.
Philippians 4:19
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