When Obedience Doesn't Lead to Ease

We've been flying high these last six weeks.  While there have certainly been moments of meltdowns, feeling overwhelmed, frustrations and confusion, I can honestly say the Lord has never been more near.

Friends have poured out their love - bringing meals, offering to watch the boys, sending me encouraging texts, praying for me and over me.

I hit a wall this last week.  The exhaustion set in.  The routine set in.  The reality set in.

I came to a place where I started doubting.  Doubting that this was from the Lord.  Doubting that this is what we should be doing.  Doubting that I could even do this for as long as the Lord has us walk in it.

Blessedly, because of events a few months ago, a beautiful woman was placed before me.
I met with her on Monday, bringing all my insecurities, all my tears, all my frustrations.

After sitting and listening to me, she took me to 2 Corinthians and began to read some of Paul's writings.

It was a reminder that I had lost my focus. 
That I had been fooled into thinking our obedience to the Lord would mean this would be easy.

Not so.  If you ever wonder about submission to Jesus making your life being a bed of roses, read any of Paul's writings.

This past week as everything hit the fan and the boys started the long awaited "acting out", I melted under what I couldn't handle.

Saturday morning found the tears that had hovered all week finally spilling over as I pleaded, pleaded with them to please work with me and not against me.  I reminded them that we were a team and that all this strife and malice and disobedience was not from the Lord and it wouldn't gain us anything.

Sunday night, putting the boys to bed, I was absolutely overwhelmed at my weariness.  I had nothing to offer them, no words inside me to pray.  I felt empty and utterly alone in the dark and quiet.

Mired in panic attacks that would not stop, I started focusing on what lay before me.
I couldn't bear to think of the days and weeks and months that still lay ahead.

Truth, at its best, gives you encouragement.
Truth, at its worst, gives you hope.

So here was Paul... Writing of his floggings, beatings, persecutions, imprisonments.  Telling of his shipwrecks, his loss of friends, his physical pain...

Yet, yet... his treasure in his jar of clay was so much more than what was right in front of him.

Here was a man that  loved God deeply, was indeed obedient to the Lord's will, yet the enemy relentlessly pounded him and it was not easy.
Did that mean his faith was not enough or that his trust was in something faulty?

Not at all.  Just the opposite.

The Lord knew Paul's strength because He was supplying it.  He would uphold Paul with His righteous right hand.  He would pick Paul up when he stumbled and fell.  He would breathe life into Paul's weary heart.

I know, I know how much easier it would be if my kids obeyed me the first time, right away.  I work on that, day in and day out for much more than me looking like super-mom (and trust me, I get sucked into that way too easily).  I want them to know what it looks like to jump in with both feet into a fiery furnace if that is what the Lord calls them to. 

As difficult as this is, I submit every dream and want before the Lord and pour into my boys each and every day.  Right now, I trust God's glory to be known whether I have a good week or an awful week.

I will walk the path he has laid out for me, in faith, knowing His goodness will not fail me and that my treasure is far beyond what I see now.  Even when this path is not simple.

Bedtime Reminders

Bedtime is getting increasingly more frustrating.

Some nights it can be enjoyable; some nights I'm sitting there wondering "how long until they're asleep?"

Always, though, it's tinged with a joyful sorrow.

Joy because it's...
Bedtime.
Stillness.
Quietness.
Peace.

Sorrow because of what isn't there.  Because of what is tangibly missing.
Because waking up in the morning means nothing has changed.

Bedtime was Jake's time with the boys.

We would all read together and then I would get to leave to have him at do the actual "to-bed" madness.

Now though?  It's me, it's them and it's tears.

Heartbreakingly, the two year old cries himself to sleep by calling, "Daddy, my daddy."

Over and over and over.

The older ones, in their sleep induced vulnerability ask, "Why?"

Why does he have to be gone?
Why can't he come home?

It's become a sweet time of sweet reminders.

I am not alone in this.
I can cry out to my Heavenly Father because some days, most days... the patience and compassion wears thin.

I ask him to pour out his mercy and grace on me so I might overflow it to my boys.

Jake leaving has left a big hole in all our hearts.  If ever there was a man that shows the love of Christ tangibly, it's him.
So for the boys not to have that physical touch, that presence... leaves them empty.

While it can be trying to hear the sadness and confusion, I'm also extremely grateful they miss their daddy so much.
I'm begging the Lord to knit our hearts closer than ever before even though we're farther than ever before.

And, it's possible.  With God, everything and anything is and I have no doubt that this year will be the best thing that has ever happened to us.

But...
If I let them grieve and soak in sadness without ever giving them hope, I've failed.
If I have set them up in life to where Jake is enough for them or I'm enough for them, I've robbed them of the single greatest joy any life can have.

So while we cry daily and I tell them it's ok to be upset and sad and even angry, I point them to Jesus.

If they have an earthly daddy who loves them this much, how much more does their perfectly good Father adore them and delight in them?  I want them to be firmly rooted in the one who never leaves us or forsakes us.

I want them to know that through this trial, we have joy because we have Jesus! No matter the outcome, we all ready have the best thing possible.

And that is something to take joy in no matter the pain that comes.