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Friday, September 22, 2017

Human


"She made broken look beautiful and strong look invincible.
She walked with the universe on her shoulders and made it look like a pair of wings." 
~Unknown


Tired.

The word doesn't even begin to touch the weariness I feel within my depths. 

You know, the older I get the more I loosen my grip on "the plan". 

The one my type A personality feels like I have to have. 

This year "the plan" derailed in more ways than I could count, and I'm still trying to wrap both my mind and my heart around it. 

Not only did our family experience gut wrenching grief-the kind of grief that we are only now slowly, but surely making our way back from with the knowledge it will always be there-but I also experienced the death of a dream. 

One that I had been holding close to my heart for a very long time. 

And over the past four months I have been watching as the story re-writes itself-shifting on me mid-chapter. 

I'd be lying if I said the suddenness of it all didn't sting just a little.

Actually, it stings a lot. 

Like a lot more than I've let on over the past four months. 

But, yet here I am.

Smiling, holding on, and taking it one day at a time.

I used to think I knew how this was going to play out.

I used to think I was headed in the right direction.

I was writing the ending before it was even in sight.

But, this upending of everything-yet again-has left me melancholy, restless, and more than a little unsure of myself.

And tired.

Very, very tired.

I know the right answer is this: that I know this is His way of reminding me that His plans are so much better than my plans-even when they sting a little. 

I also know that He brought me to this place for a reason, even if the reason is to teach me how to simply wait.

But, over the last two weeks my very human body has decided that while I know these things, it doesn't truly understand these things that come with this season.

This season of waiting.

I am reminded of all the women who came before me.

The ones who endured similar seasons such as mine.

I am reminded of their outcomes, their successes, and the truth that nothing ever happens overnight.

I am reminded of His faithfulness and provision.

I am reminded of all the valleys that have come before this one where I have come out on the other side-a little scarred, a little jaded, but much stronger than I was before.

These reminders propel me.

They keep me putting one foot in front of the other.

They allow me to get up every single day.

They fill me with hope when everything seems to be falling apart.

But sometimes I just want to sit at the kitchen table and stare out the window with the weight of what seems like the whole world on my shoulders and just be.

Be heartbroken.

Be lost.

Be more than a little unsure.

Be a very human girl with a very human heart.

Because in my short 32 years of life I have come to know this: that we are all a little broken, we are all a little scared, and we are all destined to struggle in this life.

He never promised it would be easy.

He only promised that He would be there: taking our hand, walking us through each valley, and allowing us to sit at our kitchen tables heartbroken and scared, while He sits next to us reminding us of all the things we know, but we just don't understand.

I know there's a mountain top at the end of this valley-I'm pretty sure I see glimpses of it's peak every now and then.

But, today I'm tired.

And that's ok. 

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