We got up a little late this morning and this was the first time I didn’t have the kids’ clothes ready from the night before. A serious downpour was happening outside, and we were 10 minutes late to church.
Alvi puked up some apple juice on the ride up and Luc threatened to puke a couple different times.
If that wasn’t enough, there was no seating left for all of us. Except 2 rows back from the very front of the sanctuary.
A kind helper lady walked us to our seats and no more than we sat down, Alvi threw herself to the floor and started screaming as loud as she could and this time there was no music to drown her out, just the sermon. Not a single person didn’t turn to stare. I kinda wanted to throw up, but that would’ve made it worse. So instead I scrambled to grab everything as quickly as possible and signaled the kids to follow swiftly. They stared as we left, too. That’s fine. It’s fine.
We ended up just leaving church. We drove an hour to church, only to leave before it had hardly started.
We went down the road to our favorite Diner, only to have roughly 40 people ahead of us. That’s not an exaggeration, so we left.
Instead, we sat in a parking lot for 34 minutes to rediscover one of our favorite sandwich joints, Firehouse Subs.
The kids laughed, Alvi ate her steaming (literally) macaroni like a savage, and we all took a big, deep breath. The rain stopped and the sun started shining.
It’s Father’s Day and I’m not angry or frustrated, I’m deeply saddened and overly tired.
Tired of fighting, guys. It feels like all I’ve done for 20 something years is fight. It becomes exhausting and so hard to do.
I’ve fought for the life I have. It isn’t perfect and I’m still working to overcome a slough of demons are still hiding in my closet.
I keep waiting for the sunshine. I see glimpses, but never the bigger portion. I’m not asking for a perfect life, just one that I don’t have to spend everyday fighting just to make it to the end.
Our journey is meant to be difficult, but how can it be that Satan is able to do so much damage in such small moments, all while I’m waiting on God to grant me just a small reprieve.
That’s what faith is about, though, right? Choosing everyday to believe that there is a reason for the pain, the suffering, the difficult things way may never understand in this life. Choosing to get up everyday and keep fighting. Keep going. God doesn’t leave us, no matter how alone we might feel at certain points.
Faith is reaching the end of your rope and instead of losing the fight, you tie that damn knot in the end of your rope and you start that climb back to the top. You keep your faith. It may waiver at times, but you can’t forget that Job’s did, too. Satans goal wasn’t to make Job suffer, it was to see Job sin in his suffering. (Job 1:11)
You can cry, you can scream, you can be sad. But you must find a way to stay composed. Don’t give in to sin when the suffering comes. You have an example to set for your children, your family, friends, the people around you.
I can’t tell you I haven’t already failed at this today, but I’m changing my attitude. No more sadness, not so great words, or frustration with my children. Okay, no promises on the last one but I am going to try and that’s what counts.
I have no idea what the rest of today holds, but I’m going to face it head on. All or nothing. No holds. The best is yet to come.