Last week was a green week. Green is for go on all my creative endeavors. For knitting cotton socks and casting on a summer tee shirt. For contour drawing and recording a knitting podcast episode that only two people listen to. For baking bread and telling my story. Slowly.
I have a lot of plates spinning and on green weeks, I don't mind it.
But now we're in the red and my thoughts are unreliable. Before I could homeschool, make dinner, dabble in one creative outlet or another and still rise the next day hopeful and happy to be alive.
Last night I hit a wall.
I went from feeling amazing at 2 to not being able to lift myself off the couch at 3. I went from brainstorming who I could catch up with now that I have some social energy to scrapping that plan and hiding from the neighbors. I went from sharing 1 Thessalonians 5:16-17 with my kids that morning to forgetting the helpfulness of prayer altogether. I couldn't make dinner. But I could cry and contemplate how weird life is that it can end in an instant and has for so many. And yet I'm stuck in bed. Out of fuel. And trying to remember it's okay. Get the rest. I will feel better tomorrow.
We needed groceries last night so Adam took the kids and gave me some time alone. He prayed with me before he left and listened. He encouraged me to go for a walk, to interrupt the spiral by moving my body, praying, watching something funny—and I added eating ice cream. Because that's very important. Did I mention I'm on my cycle. So, yes, ice cream, necessary, now.
Eventually I took the advice. I took Coco on a walk. Coco is my Swiss white shepherd mix. An anxious mess of a creature. We were meant for each other…honestly.
And as I walked I remembered the intro class Adam and I attended at church on Sunday and the presentation of the Gospel at another angle. The redemption angle.
There’s the created world it was originally designed to be or as it OUGHT to be. There's the world as it IS now, broken, dark, fallen, not as it should or could be. And then there's the world as it CAN be, the redemption, the light in the midst of darkness that sustains hope…its where Jesus comes in. Breaking into our sinful, messy, tangled up existence and does something new in us and the things we touch. He heals. Forgives. Smooths out. Brings joy. And propels us forward into the world that WILL be, the world removed from all that horrible here—even mental instability and illness.
This wasn’t new. But it was a refreshing reminder. Especially yesterday.
The Holy Spirit convicted me of catalyzing my existence, taking the present hardness and shaping a narrative out of it that leaves out his faithfulness, how he's helped me throughout the years…before medicine was even part of the picture. Because if it's a crisis, then a quick fix is necessary.
But if it's just a hard day or a bad brain day I can bring my weakness to God and rest. And be grateful for an understanding husband and the reality that I don't have to have all the answers today.
And I don't have to achieve all my ideas today. Which brings me to the original reason I stopped to write you today. I had hoped to have a story this week for my paid subscribers. And I don't. It's still very much in a first draft phase. And I don't want to rush the process just to have something to deliver here. I also don’t want to hold back the raw truth of my story because I know I'll share it with you. So I want to leave the door open to send a story when I have one. And it may be the bus story or it may be something else that comes out of my writing sessions. I think my aim will be a solid story every quarter. In the interim I'll share the process and whatever else is on my mind like today….
Thanks for being patient with me. I'm so grateful for you reading. And I'm also grateful for those of you who upgraded to paid. I hope to make it worth your investment.
At the end of my walk Psalm 23:4 came to mind. And this is what the Holy Spirit does. He brings up the word when you need it. Words like, “For He is with me. His rod and his staff comforts me.”
A shepherd’s rod is used as a weapon to fight off wolves and other predators. The staff pulls in wandering sheep.
The Lord protects me from predators. From people who would send me down the wrong path. Even in the fields of medicine. And he keeps me from wandering off—following my own fancies into a ditch. If I do get away, he finds me. This is what God is like. This is redemption. And it's the world I live in now and thus, I have hope. Even as I write with tears in my eyes. For reasons I can't name.
I am always grateful for you and your words. You are so very relatable. Thank you for being transparent because it helps me - and others, I’m sure - know that we’re not alone in having struggles and up and downs. I’m praying that you have a few more rejuvenating walks and yummy ice cream this week. 💗❤️