My Joyful Mysteries, and A Revolution of Real

Everyday is a gift. I was thinking that today as I thought of people feeling loss today. As I prayed for the grieving. As I got a message that a coworker passed away.

Everyday is a gift. And every life matters.

All of us grapple during the day to day, and our minds are full of “stuff.”

Stuff like worry, disorganization, procrastination, sadness, guilt, perfectionism, second guessing…again.

And this stuff weighs us down, and becomes a record in our head. The longer it plays, the more accustomed we get to it.

And we forget that life is happening right there.

Right in front of us.

And I wondered about those last moments…would that record be playing?

Because many times…a lot of times, I don’t know what is going to happen. You never know when “this time” is the last time- that stuff is just stuff.

But this life…is a gift.

You are a gift.

So today I give thanks for life. And I pray that today we can love a little better, forgive a little quicker, and live a little fuller. I know it’s all touchy feely but that’s what I got.

Thank you for being a part of my Real.

Thank you for being a part of my everyday.

“I know. Somehow I’ve always known.” -Princess Leia

I am wearing my Princess Leia shirt today.

Because I woke up at 3:45 and couldn’t fall back asleep. Because I thought of what I have been called to so far, and don’t know if I can.

What if I mess it up? What if I do it wrong? What if I don’t give God the Glory of my real?

I am scared.

Yesterday what I wrote struck a chord. It pierced right underneath my skin and flowed through my veins straight to my heart, and scared the day lights out of me…

Because the words were deliberate and meant for people, but they flowed through me as messages from someone much bigger. And you may think I am just saying that. But I’m not.

I’m not that good of a writer.

And it scared me. Because I’m scared of a whole lot of things.

I’m scared of the dark. I’m scared of bad guys. I’m scared of action movies. I’m scared of car problems. I’m scared of abscesses. I’m scared of tight spaces. I’m scared of guns. I’m afraid of large bodies of water. I’m afraid of Panda Express. I’m afraid of Public Restrooms at Rest Stops. I’m scared of terrorists. I’m scared of backing into spaces while parking. I’m scared of Cougars. I’m scared of being incarcerated. I’m scared of cliffs. I’m scared that my future daughter in laws won’t like me. I’m scared of losing my kids. I’m scared of losing my husband or of him falling out of love with me.

And…

I’m scared of failing.

Myself. My family. My God.

I’m so scared.

This morning as I watched the sky lose its darkness and become morning, something real came to me. Since I started feeling life again- I get all these glimpses of little truth.

Last year I said Yes. To a lot. To God and came out completely shattered.

Last year I learned about loss and grief, and learned about the terrifying world of being numb and living in darkness.

But I also learned that the way I had been living for a very long time before that was not living. I can’t just give and give and give…and not sleep. I have to take care of myself. I have to be ok with, as much as it is against every part of me, setting boundaries.
Drawing a line. For my family. For me.

I learned that getting better, and becoming Me- the authentic better version of me, means loving myself enough to put myself back on my list.

This getting better…means my relationships may be different, but the ones that will stay are the keepers. The ones that count, they want me…here.

It means saying No, and being ok with that.

Or more realistically trying to be ok with that.

I don’t want to let anyone down. I don’t want anyone to give up on me. And I’m scared they will.

But never again, will I give up on myself. I’ve come too far.

I’m scared. But I’m not alone.

And I’ll admit it…

I’m different. But the parts that count…my love, my children, and my Yes to God is revealing a brand new Real I have been waiting my entire life for.

And writing is just a small part of it…but the rest is coming. And I don’t know what it is. But I know it’s big. I can feel it.

And I am scared.

Because I said Yes.

He always knew I would.

I’m wearing my Princess Leia Shirt. Because even if she was afraid, she called for help, and moved. She moved.

I might mess this all up. But I will do my Best to Give God the Glory…if I am
the only one changed- I have been more brave than I ever imagined.

Investing in his Glory outweighs every single thing I’ve ever been afraid of.

Yes. I will.

Long before there was you, or me…he knew our Yes. He knew we’d be scared, but he knew our answer.

Now my friends…What do you need to say yes to? What are you scared of?

You can use make up. You can use lighting. You can use angles.

But nothing covers up real.

Nothing covers up the day in and day out of living even when the getting up seems to be too much. Nothing covers up the bags and life. Nothing covers up grief.

And so we go on…

We go on and pretend that someday we’ll be more together. Someday we’ll have the answers we need. Someday. We. Will.

And yet Daughters are grieving mothers, and feel guilty for laughing for the first time in months. And children are praying that their Dad shows up…this time. Mothers are praying next to the bed of a child who is choosing to taking risks, that will take their soul. And a spouse is pleading in a black room, whispering so the kids don’t hear, so they don’t know that their world is about to turn over and crush them…”please…don’t…leave…me.”

Someday. We will. Be enough.

The cost of real is exposing all the raw and stripping away all the pretense of the have-to’s, and I should, and what am I going to do…

Seriously? What am I going to do?

I have done everything you ask…and here I stand broken. In grief. In raw. In real.

And hearing the still small voice of…

It’s ok to be here. Right now.

It’s ok to not have the answers. Or to be better. It’s ok. You don’t have to cover it up.

It’s saying you don’t have to cover up your real. You don’t have to look for outside affirmation. You don’t have to filter your life to look better to feel better temporarily.

You are enough in your real.

Because when we feel joy…it will also be real.

And when we feel God…when we know God…we are transformed.

You can’t cover up Faith.

Because it can’t be smothered.

Even if you try. Even if you’re so angry at God for taking, and allowing.

It is still there. Somewhere.

So today, not someday… We need to stop the putting up the barrier of…

“I’m okay.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really. I don’t need help.”

“…I don’t need God.”

Break down the barrier and stop covering up your Real.

The Revolution of real is embracing your broken and raw, and celebrating our hope and our joy when we discover…

Our real isn’t Ugly or Unworthy.

You are not ugly or unworthy.

We are beautiful and worn.

Even when we are broken. Which seems
too costly at times, but is the only way to become free.

We are beautiful and worn. And Here.

We are Enough. And More.

So much more.*

* I have been given this picture and passage multiple times these past weeks. Each time I read it I get chills and am reminded that this Real is Powerful. So for all of you who shared it with me…thank you. Also to the Holy Spirit who graced this post over and over, with words I couldn’t even began to put together…thank you.

Page borrowed from “The Velveteen Rabbit” written by Margery Williams.

The weather is pretty gloomy. Rain off and on. My kids love it when it’s pouring…they have a trench built for their army men and come back in muddy and spent.

But one has been sick and isn’t allowed out side in the drizzle. And has been complaining nonstop. Crying crocodile years about why she can’t go out. Even though yesterday I let her and she came in chilled.

So…It’s pretty gloomy inside too.

This past couple weeks were two of the most strange-stretching-growing weeks I’ve had in a long time. Looking back I’m confused about so much of it trying to find the lesson in it.

What could I have done differently? So much.

I am the queen of second guessing myself. I will mull over conversations for days if I feel like I may have said the wrong thing, or hurt someone.

Oh Sweet Taylor Swift, I try to Shake it Off, and I just can’t.

This morning I woke up and looked out at the Grey Winter Sky.

Soon it will be spring. Another season.

I started to think about seasons after this past week. One of the hardest parts of it was I lost a potential friend that I really thought I had a lot in common with. We share our faith but…

There were other factors. There always is.

And then I started thinking about something I’ve heard lately, about seasons of friendships. Every friendship has a season, and sometimes you might really love someone but that doesn’t mean you’ll always be friends. That doesn’t mean that you will last until the spring.

Which is hard for me.

Because I am loyal to a fault. Recently, in fact today, my husband mentioned a particular relationship that I have always worked so hard at and said “but you always end up hurt. You always end up crying. And then you forget.”

And it’s true. It can be one sided. But I love this person. I really love them.

A while back I realized the season of this friendship may have ended. It was probably my most prized friendship in many ways, like my roses out back. But time and circumstances, and weather and priorities, has worn down and made the stems brittle and they break easily. I tried so hard to save them but I didn’t know how. I didn’t remember the last time the friendship had been a give and take. I had spent years trying so hard, but felt like maybe I didn’t matter as much to them as they did to me. And then
I got sick, and they didn’t know how to love me.

Which I understand, because I wasn’t a great friend then. But I needed them. I still do.

I cried for hours and hours, which isn’t really a surprise, because I cry at commercials…but I have grieved. I’m still grieving, I’m still hoping that when spring comes along that the roses that will begin to bloom. That this season was just that…that I actually matter to this person.

Because I love them.

And I have had to prune back. I’ve had to stop trying so hard. In every part of my life. I know I’m not the best at everything right now, but I also know that this season just like the previous one is stretching me. It is giving me strength I never knew I had. And weakness I never knew I had.

Because this hurts.

But in order to grow I have to feel this. And know this.

I was reading Ecclesiastes 3 today and was reflecting on how everything has a season and I read on…

“I know that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken away from
It; God has done this, so that all should stand in awe of him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already is; and what God seeks out what has gone by.” – Ecclesiastes 3: 14-15

I sat. I prayed. And surprise, surprise I cried.

Because I always think when people don’t like me, or when friendship is one sided it’s me. It’s my fault. It’s what I’ve done wrong.

But God…what God does endures forever. So if this season brings growth and brings unity- I will stand in awe. Because when I focus on everything I could have done differently, I take away from what God is doing.

Everything has a time. Everything has a season. But He’s in charge.

My real is full of weeds and thorns.

But he is good.

And he seeks out what is, was, what will be, and already is…and he can clear my real out. And I second guess.

So today I plan to love. Love through the gloom. Love even when I know that this season may last longer than I want. Love because I am in awe of each Season and what it brings. Love even if that means something has gone by- and I may never get it back, or see it grow again.

I will love. This season.

He will seek. He will do. He endures.

I’ve spent the last 24 hours tuning in to a world wide podcast “gathering” based out of Austin Texas called IF Gathering. If you haven’t heard of it…look it up. It’s an incredible group of women leaders who get together to unite, empower, and bring Christian Women together to serve right where they are…I have been watching it at an actual IF Gathering local house, but also at home because Grace was up all night with a fever, and Dyp has to work.

But even from thousands of miles away I have been fed, and touched by the words and messages…so incredibly deeply. It was almost too much to write this today because I’m still in the deep sleep retreat mode, of solitude and listening to what God wants me to hear. There is so much to hear…

About a year ago, maybe more, I started noticing I was losing hearing in my left ear. It wasn’t a surprise because my grandfather was partially deaf, as was my Aunt, and my Dad is hard of hearing now in one ear. I still haven’t went in(I know I should) but I don’t hear as well in that ear. If we are in a crowded place and my kids talk to me on that side I can’t hear them. If someone hollers my name outside of the school and that side is facing them, I can’t hear them. I’ve began to look at people’s mouths more even though I still can hear in both, however if there are a lot of people that ear just can’t do it.

I have to say to my kids “look right at me.”

It is frustrating. For my family. For me.

Today as I watched the Sessions, and as I prayed I kept hearing the words: Listen.

Listen.

Which is funny because sometimes when I want to listen I can’t hear.

But then I started to think. Recently my teenager has mentioned how I interrupt him, especially when I am frustrated and I “don’t listen!” And I began to understand how that must hurt so deeply, to have someone so unwilling to listen.

I know I feel that way. When I’m trying to explain something, and someone has already decided what their decision is, or their opinion is…and do not listen.

And it hurts. And I feel small.

And I thought of how even though I try to listen to all their stories, to remember all the little things they have to tell me- that there are days when I’m just tired. Where all the running around, and activities have made me a really bad listener.

And that’s when I should be striving to listen. We find out the important things in the passing moments.

And I think of last year.

I said today to someone that last year was the worst year of my life…but really it wasn’t the worst, it was the hardest. And really I think that much of it was I didn’t feel like God was listening.

“Why aren’t you listening?”

And now…this year I have a deeper faith than I ever have had. Not without trials, not without bad days, but everyday is felt and appreciated. I am grateful. And the hard and shattered, gave me an outlook I could never have felt had I not lived it.

Now. I. Live.

God was listening.

God was listening as I sat surrounded by darkness, watching myself slowing unravel.

God was listening as I plead for healing. God was listening as I made my way, battered and broken, and completely ravaged by my own guilt and anxiety.

The darkness lied. I had been there.

But I hadn’t been alone.

He was listening.

And there was beauty when I began to restore. Heal. It isn’t one of those crazy quick things…I have had to work for it. I have to work so hard.

Somedays I just want to say “Listen, today I just need it to be easy.”

And somedays now, it is.

But every day he listens. Regardless.

We forget in our lives where we have become so dependent on ourselves…that he hears us…

He hears you.

In the loud.

He hears you.

In the deepest quietest part of your heart.

He hears you.

In the wind and the rain.

He hears you.

In the tragic.

He hears you.

In the betrayal.

He hears you.

In the sickness.

He hears you.

In the broken.

He. Hears. You.

Last night I lay with my sleepy Grace and held her hand. So small still, but her grip is strong. And I thought about how in the darkness I would plead for answers and grace, but I wouldn’t let go of my guilt and my fear…because somehow that was what I thought was holding me together…

Even though that is what was tearing me a part.

But what if I’d listened closer.

What if I let go.

What if I released that, and placed my grip on Him? And trusted that he was listening.

Because there is something powerful about knowing we are heard.

Your voice matters.

Your real matters.

Today I feel called to ask you to give your real to Him, to come to him in your broken, in your worry. I ask you to trust him with you burden.

He is listening.

And I pray we can all start listening to each other, and hearing. Really hearing.

Last night as I held Grace’s hand and listened to her breathing, she reached over and held onto me.

And I was overcome by how holy that moment was. The cadence of her inhale and exhale, and that absolute trust she places as she rests against me.

Dependent. Trusting. Knowing.

Because she just knows…if she needs me…I am there. Listening.

Look at him. Look to him.

He. Hears. Us.

(Joyful Mysteries Note: I met Meredith when she was a student teacher for my oldest son.Even then we knew there was something very special about her.  Years later she became Curly’s Kindergarten teacher, and I fell in love with the magical way she engaged every student.  And then we became friends. She is a wonderful friend, teacher, and now Mother.  I am honored to have her write her Real Today.) 

I’m currently in search of a time machine. Or one of those time-turners like Hermione had in Harry Potter. Or a 1981 DeLorean. Maybe a cloning device. You see, I have 3 “Me’s” which all need 24 hours in which to exist, which are not exactly compatible with one another right now. So I need a time machine.

My first Me is my Self. My Self enjoys running, wine, spending time with her husband, friends, and family, and travelling. She likes to read, obsess over impossible crafts on Pinterest – even try a few of them once in a while – paint her finger and toe nails, get massages, run more than 2 errands at a time, browse and meander at T.J. Maxx or Old Navy or, honestly, anywhere. My Self likes to change her outfit 8 times in the morning until it’s just right, put on elaborate makeup for no real reason, and play with her hair for hours. My Self works hard to be balanced, get enough sleep, and eat properly. My Self holds Me Time sacred.

My second Me is The Mommy. The Mommy has always wanted to be The Mommy and loves it very much. The Mommy thinks about her baby all day, and misses her even after she has just spent the better part of an hour and a half putting her fussy baby to bed. The Mommy takes 8 billion photos of her baby – per day – and doesn’t regret a single one. She cherishes her time with the baby and loves the way it has brought her and The Daddy together. The Mommy wants nothing more than to stay at home with her baby.

My third Me is The Teacher. The teacher adores her students. The Teacher has always wanted to be a teacher, and now that she has been teaching for a few years, is becoming proud of the work she can do with students. The Teacher doesn’t always like to stay late after school or come in early for meetings with parents, but she does it. Sometimes more than she would like, always more than the time “required” by her contract. The Teacher likes learning more about teaching, more about helping her students, more about perfecting her craft. She throws together quick fun activities for her students, and carries on traditions in her classroom from year to year. The Teacher stays up at night in bed, thinking about how she can make tomorrow better, worrying about the student who just didn’t really get that one thing today in Math. The Teacher is dedicated, professional, organized, and fast-thinking.

So, you see why I need that time machine. I don’t have all the time to be all those things as well as I want to. I’m only one person, with only so much time, energy, and brainpower. My daughter is 4 months old, and I’ve been back to work now for about a month. Today, just today, for the first time in 5 weeks, I felt mildly successful at my job. And then I came home and couldn’t get my daughter to nap for over an hour. And I have gone for a run once this week. Once. I haven’t slept in since my second trimester, I have yet to finish the second chapter of a book I started while I was in the hospital, and the thought of going to Target and then Trader Joe’s makes me want to melt into the floor.

I worship sleep. I don’t buy anything that can’t go from fridge to mouth in less than 2 steps, or anything which needs 2 hands. I only multitask. I always have something in my hand, something on my mind, something else to do, somewhere I should have gone today but I just couldn’t. Running, which used to be my primary form of “therapy” is now a luxury, not a habit. My daughter only laughs for her father, while some days it seems like I can barely elicit a grin, and the Mommy Guilt sets in. Life has become a blur.

People give me advice: “Stop trying to be everything to everyone, it’s not possible.” But that’s not what I’m striving for. Most days I just feel like I’m trying to be anything to anyone. My friends think I’m a perfectionist, and they’re probably right.

But the truth is I don’t like doing things halfway. I don’t like teaching my students what they need to know… but in a messy classroom. What my students don’t see is that every moment they’re working or at recess or lunch, I’m frantically throwing together materials and hoping the technology works, and improvising to make my plans work.

I don’t like waking up with my daughter and nursing her… only to put her promptly into her little rocker to “play” while I shower and get ready to leave her. I don’t like spending time with my husband… for a maximum of an hour in the evenings during which we mostly sit in silence because we’re both So. Burnt. Out. I don’t like (finally) running nearly 3 miles… only on evenings when I have someone to watch the baby for 30 precious minutes.

At the end of the day, I know I will find a way to make my 3 Me’s compatible. I know that someday, my daughter will sleep, and so will I. I know my husband and I will once again exchange actual, coherent sentences and use both our hands again. I know Mommy Me will have summers with my daughter thanks to Teacher Me. I know I will get better at balancing work, play, and family. But until then, I’m keeping my eyes open for that time machine…

Meredith is a wife, mother, and teacher. She loves being with friends and family, running and writing. She also loves discussing “Downton Abbey”* with the administrator of this blog.

* the administrator may have taken creative license with the bio.

Grace.

Age 6.

Favorite color. Pink. Purple. Sparkles.

Favorite recent term: For Real Life…

—————————————————————-
Grace: Mom, today in the bus Chase and I held hands.

Me: Grace, we don’t have boyfriends and girlfriends.

Grace: Well, we held hands.

Me: Ok- but you understand, no girlfriend/boyfriend, smoochie stuff- you are too little.

Grace: Mom I want you to listen to me closely…look at me- it’s not a smoochie thing. sometimes…people…just…hold…
Hands.

——————————————————————-

(Watching Katy Perry on the super bowl)

Grace: I don’t think she knows the trick to makeup. Less IS more.

——————————————————————-

Grace: All babies should hear you are so so so cute! And don’t smoke. And always stay with a grown up that you know, and stay away from strangers, because even though they look nice they could be bad guys.

——————————————————————

Me: If you had to choose today what do you want to be when you grow up.

Grace: A babysitter.

——————————————————————

Grace: I’m going to have 600 kids. Or maybe four. Two boys, and two girls. And one more stinkin’ kid who will be a boy. And I will just love them.

——————————————————————-

Grace: You should never write on yourself. Except I do. So maybe just once in a while.

—————————————————————–

Grace: Eat healthy food like strawberries and candy.

——————————————————————-

Grace: Everyone needs God. And a home. And to smile…God is in my heart so I smile a lot.

—————————————————————–

Grace: Something crazy is going on in this town.

Daniel: what do you mean?

Grace: I don’t know…but I’m on a mission to find out about that and to get some Cotton Candy.

—————————————————————-

Grace: Look guys! It’s raining! Isn’t it amazing? For real life, we get to spin in the Rain!
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Somedays we need a little less Us, and a little more For Real Life wisdom.

Somedays we need to see the world through the eyes of joy. And hope. Do something a little silly. Somedays we need to look at a situation with fresh perspective. Enjoy life. Live a little. Judge less…love More. Have a mission of Joy.

Somedays we just need to hold a Hand.

And look for the “Grace” in our lives…and listen.

Somedays we just need to welcome the rain.

And maybe spin in it.

We all need joy.

We all need God.

For Real Life.

You are. Trying.

Trying to find Motivation.

Trying to get a walk in.

Trying to find something that’s legal that is stronger than coffee.

You are. Waiting.

Waiting to go into watch your child read at Mass for the first time.

Waiting to finish pumping in the bathroom at work.

Waiting to Teach your next class, and hoping you are getting it right.

You are. Almost. Ready.

Getting ready for School after years of being on a break.

Getting and soaking every single second out of maternity leave.

Getting ready…well almost…close to convincing yourself you are ready for today.

You are…

My inspiration.

Because I have this sinking-lingering-everyday -weeklong feeling that I am…

Not trying hard enough…

Not being patient while waiting…

Not ready for what today has. Because today has to be better. It has to be. Because this sinking feeling says I’m failing.

I am so tired. But I am inspired.

Because…You are beautiful.

Real.

Today one of my sons and I sat in the car a little longer than everyone else. He told me that there was a new study group formed with in his grade and he didn’t realize they only chose certain kids. When he asked the teacher when he would get to go, the teacher said he wouldn’t. He wasn’t chosen.

My son told me this and curled his skinned knees up under his chin, and pulled his cap down over his eyes. We sat there in silence as I watched his huge tears drops cascade down onto his knees.

Crushed.

And I sat there and prayed that I would have the right words to say…

Somehow the words just escaped me.

So I let him cry, and I rested my hand on his neck and said “That. Is. So. Tough.”

And he began to speak to me about how hard he was trying, and how he wants to be included…how now he is wondering why he’s not smart enough, why his friends are there, what he did wrong…

And I just listened as I watched my child, cry his eyes out, and watched him question all of the things that were so raw in him and wide open. Hurt and Embarrassment. Disappointment. And everything that comes when you start to think that you are not good enough. Because it starts when we’re kids.

If only I’d done my homework they’d still be married.

If I had eaten my vegetables he would still be alive.

If I wore my purple dress, she’d still be my best friend.

What did I do wrong?

And it continues into adolescence.

If only I was prettier, I’d be more popular.

If only I’d ran a little faster, I’d have made the team.

If only I cleaned my room, they would stopped fighting.

What did I do wrong?

And into High School and College.

If only I’d been better, she’d still like me.

If only I’d gotten a little better score, I would have gotten into a better school.

If only I was a little skinnier.

What did I do wrong?

And then into adulthood.

If only I’d avoided caffeine I would still be pregnant with her.

If only I could be better at time management I’d be a better Mother.

If only I’d loved her more, we’d still be married.

And the “if only” slowly crushes us. Crushes our spirits.

So I sat and listened and I hugged him and we talked. And I came in and put into words what I said and hope he reads over the years…

You. My beautiful amazing boy. You try so hard. And it’s hard to not be included, and I wish I could tell you that it gets easier. But what I know is that you are the first person to step in and sacrifice your place at a table. You are the first person to say Thank you, and will always offer to help out. You are smart because you think beyond school and sports, and even this year. You think of how you can be better all the time, and that is a million times smarter than most adults I know. You always try to do the right thing. Which is hard, because sometimes that means that no matter how hard you try you won’t make the team or the group. But that doesn’t mean you weren’t good enough, it just means it wasn’t what God had for you right now. And I know you’re hurt and embarrassed. I know you’re disappointed but what you prove to me day after day, is that someday when you choose the path God is calling you to–you will live it, and you give your heart and soul. And that is what matters. You matter. You didn’t do anything wrong. You always try and in this house, that is enough. You are right where you are meant to be. And we are so proud of you. God has big plans for you. -Mom.

This.

Is a part of life.

But it also is the part that crushes.

This is the part of parenting that constantly tugs and pulls, because no matter what…they can’t always be the best, and they aren’t always included. And it hurts.

And it never goes away. As an adult.

Today my words escaped because I know too well that hurt. That raw. And it’s a million times worse watching my child feel it. But I also know what I see…

And I see my son.

Who is amazing, in so many tremendous beautiful ways. So in those moments as I listened to him…I plead to God.

Please. Please. Let him know he is enough.

Because you have chosen him for Greatness.

My boy with skinned knees and a heart of gold is more than enough always, because even when my words escape…I know you comfort your chosen.

In our house, he is always chosen.

“Blest are those who hunger and search for righteousness, for they shall be filled.” Matthew 5:6

I was talking to a friend recently…a friend who has felt the same nudges I have towards ministry and is being called to the same things.

We talked over FaceTime, she is in Canada, and laughed because while we are being called to the same things we are both being pulled in a million other directions as mothers, wives, and women. (In fact our conversation was cut short when her daughter’s school called to say she was sick)

And of course there is the reality checks…

When?

How?

Why?

Why me God? Why when I am drowning in laundry…when I forgot to brush my hair before church yesterday…when my car is a mess and I can’t seem to keep up…

On life.

Why me?

Why?

Me?

But then I step outside my situation. And I look back and I look around.

I see people I love. And People I should like and maybe even try to love.

I see your fb posts about what we should be doing, what you are doing, and I talk to you. I hear where you feel inadequate and know that you too…feel like you should be keeping up.

We are hungry.

And we keep trying to fill up. With purchases. With food. With another workout. With products. With celebrity gossip. With selfies. With friends.

And we can’t fill up. But we keep trying. We keep posting and waiting, and striving and even though we are at our goal weight and our house is clean, and we cannot think of anything else we need— we are hungry.

Starving.

And we have been failed. We have been failed by a world that has told us that we can never ever be good enough, that we should try harder. That external beauty should be our definition of winning. That education is more important than living. That what people think of us on social media is more important than reading to our kids at night. That all we need is…

One more cookie.

One more sit up.

One more purse.

One more piece of gossip.

One more Pinterest recipe and craft.

One more…lie.

And then we have it…and maybe a week goes by.

And we are still hungry.

I was hungry.

I was starving for healing.

For answers.

When I started finding it, I couldn’t stop searching.

Because I needed Grace.

I needed Hope.

I needed God.

And once I was started being fed the word, and the grace and the hope I couldn’t get enough…I wasn’t starving anymore because this was a different sort of hungry. A hungry that is content and willing to share good. And good is what we all need.

But it definitely opened my eyes.

I did a few things.

I stopped watching TV mostly. I watch two shows a week if that.

I stopped reading comments on the Internet of articles. Especially the mean ones…and they are usually mean. And I stopped reading most articles too.

I stopped comparing myself.

I stopped pretending.

I stopped filling my cup with things I don’t need…like crappy friendships, letting petty things get to me, I even cut myself off from trying so hard in relationships that were one sided. Because I want to be filled with people who actually like me, who think I’m more important than their phone.

When I realized what we all were searching and hungry for…I looked around again and all I saw was hunger.

*Hunger that can only be filled by living that only can be lived by knowing…and knowing that can only be found in speaking…and speaking that can only be heard by hearing…and hearing that can only be heard by the hungry…and hunger that can only be filled by the truth.

And The Truth is we need God.

Desperately.

We are starving…and there is no person or situation, or amount of money that can give you the peace that comes from knowing that you are being Fed.

And you are full.

And being full isn’t some crazy easy life…not like some Mega Pastors like to say. You won’t be a millionaire. But you will be rich with Grace. Life won’t be easy. But you will rest easy in The promise of Hope. And you may be broken and shattered. But there is nothing like Restoration.

And someday you may be sitting looking at a pile of laundry and wondering…

Why me?

Why any of us?

Because I know the Truth. The Real Truth.

And I have enough to share.

Because I may not be keeping up on life as well as I’d like, but I’m filled to the brim with Grace.

And clean towels.

And hope.

And life.

We need God.

*came to me today in prayer…exact words. Woo woo Holy Spirit.