The Good

I've been feeling a pretty embattled lately. 

Scripture describes struggle as being hard pressed and crushed on every side, and I feel like that doesn't even begin to scratch the surface of the last 4 weeks. 

First, my mother-in-law suddenly passed away which shook our tiny corner of the world in a way I still cannot describe. (I wrote about that this week. If you click back, you can read that and how we're coping.)

Then, less than a week later, my largest client-the one who generates almost 75% of the revenue for my business decided to pull out.

Yep.

After 15 years and modeling our entire business around service to them, they went with a semi-cheaper bid and a couple of lame excuses as their reasons why. 

No warning. 

No chance to re-evaluate my numbers. 

Just gone. 

And now I find myself unwillingly holding people’s jobs, livelihoods, and futures in the palm of my hand; and I’m starting to wish I would have thrown in the towel a year ago.

Boss babe status isn’t for the faint of heart, even though the Pinterest memes make it look easy.

And lastly, a dear friend and mentor-whom I admire with my whole heart-was diagnosed with stage 4 uterine cancer last week. We are still waiting on the pathology results to confirm, but right now the prognosis isn't good.

And as I talked with her yesterday, she made light of it and put on her usual brave face.

Instead of turning the conversation inward and focusing on her diagnosis, she spent our conversation time coaching me through the unknowns of a career that seems to be vanishing right before my eyes. 

She has always been my champion.

And as I sit here on a beautiful Good Friday afternoon watching my daughter play quietly with the craft in front of her, I am doing my best to continue this charade of holding it all together.

But, the truth is this: I can’t.

Because, shattered doesn't seem to adequately describe the state of my heart and all of it's pieces.

And you know, I wanted to tie these words into Good Friday and keep being brave.

I wanted to tell you that while I know that all of this sadness and pain doesn’t hold a candle to the sadness or pain my Jesus experienced today, I am reminded in midst of all of this, that MY sadness and pain is exactly WHY He did it.

I wanted to tell you that I know that this world with all of it’s pain, sickness, heartache, and disappointment was never intended to be my home.

That I know these struggles are temporary.

Because I do KNOW all of these things.

And quite honestly, weakness has never been my color.

But, today…TODAY…I feel vulnerable and weak.

I feel like my drive and my purpose died somewhere along the way of the last four weeks.

Maybe it’s in the pond with my mother-in-law’s ashes and the roses we threw in there for her.

Maybe it’s in the file folder with the termination letter that I wasn’t expecting.

Or maybe it’s buried somewhere in my text messages with the message my friend’s husband sent telling me that the prognosis wasn’t good.

Honestly, I’m not sure where I lost it.

But, I think I have a small sliver of a grasp of how Jesus might have felt in the garden.

Because right now, there are a few cups in front of me that I don’t really want to drink.

Not one little bit.

And even though I know God is good, this crap sure as hell doesn’t feel good while I wait here expectantly for Him to provide the next move.

The next door.

The next path.

Because despite how angry and how sad I am, I still know that I know that I know that He is here, He is going to provide, and this mess-as painful as it is-is all apart of the plan.

So, today I am going to keep trusting, and attempting to hold it all together.

And you know, I can’t even begin to comprehend what the weight of the world must have felt like for Jesus that day.

But, today I think I have a pretty good idea.