Telling the Truth

The other day Katherine and I stopped by the 99 Cent Only store to do a little grocery shopping. (Don't knock it until you've tried it, folks).  After getting back in our van (with my $1 a box protein bars!), loading up the groceries and Katherine, I turned on our 2003 Honda Oydessy and sat for a moment.  I won't say I was enjoying the air conditioning since it was close to 90 degrees that day (the AC doesn't work right now) and I wasn't hooking up my iPod to the radio (since I have neither a iPod or the fancy hooking-up receptacles to do this).

I was just taking a quiet moment, a deep breath, when The Girl was contained and I could sit.  Just sit.  And of course, I was checking Facebook.  My window was rolled down to let the air in.  Rolled down windows aren't that common in Houston, I've noticed, especially since that's how I roll these days. This might have been why I attracted the attention of the shopping strip security guard. Dressed in his "security blues," he resembled a (great) grandfather more than an actual impediment for any would-be thieves.

"Ma'am?" he said, coming close to my window. (Yes, I'm called ma'am now.  Ugh).

"Yes?"

"Everything okay?" he asked.

I looked around quickly.  Had I been so engrossed in Facebook that I failed to notice a bomb detonating or a carjacking?  "I'm fine."

He nodded and threaded his thumbs through the belt loops on his pants.  "Good.  Good.  I just wanted to check.  You never know with these old cars."  Then he smiled and walked off.

I sat there for a moment, a little embarrassed, a little tired, a little offended. 

Let me explain.  Generally speaking, I could care less what we drive, that most of my clothes come from the thrift store, that I can stretch $100 to feed our family of six for a week if I need to.  I could care less than our minivan and our car are 12 and 13 years old respectively; they are, after all, paid off. But I got embarrassed anyway and I got my feeling hurt a little (even though Grandpa Security Guard was just being nice).  I don't want to be reminded that our financial struggle is real.

Three or so years ago, my husband I gave up our credit cards.  All of them.  They've been cut up, thrown away and unused.  We gave up our credit cards so that we could work to become debt free.  See, when we moved to Houston seven and a half years ago, we were debt free. And then autism happened.  And then surprise kid number three happened. And then my husband struggled to find a job.  And then autism happened again.

With all those things, our debt grew.  It grew and it grew and it grew and . . . well, you get the point. These last few years have felt like watching a horror movie at times.  I watch my life and wince.  "Ouch, that one hurt." "Oh, that's going to be hard to recover from." "That one's gonna cause some bleeding, folks."  I've had to take my life with a sort of observational detachment or I would have long ago been locked up somewhere in a strait jacket.

Sometimes, life turns out to be nothing, nothing, like you expected.  There are some moments that are such pure joy--a love, a marriage, a baby, a new home--and some things are harsh, hard, messy. So, I'm going to fess up now.  I'm not good at the serious stuff usually.  My natural inclination is to crack a joke and laugh because that is so much easier than crying (plus I'm less likely to look like a sobbing tomato).

Today, I'm confessing: My life is hard. 

There, I said it.  Things are not easy.  I'm struggling with anger and resentment.  I'm struggling with depression and anxiety.  I'm struggling with financial worry and feeling inadequate. I feel a little like God handed me a gigantic pile a of dirt, said, "Here, move this," and forgot to give me a shovel so I have to use my hands and my hands hurt from the calluses and the broken nails and the bleeding.

My life is hard when we are struggling to potty train a six year old and I have to change yet another pull up.  My life is hard when I sit and wait while an insurance company decides the fate of therapy for our boys.  My life is hard when I juggle bills and more bills.  My life is hard when I see our families distance themselves.  Maybe that's actual distance because they live far away or maybe it's distance because our kids aren't perfect and never will be.  My life is hard when I have to make people see my kids aren't just a diagnosis or when I have to stay on top of teachers, when I have to fight.

My life is hard when I have to ask for help.  I know that sounds stupid, but . . . Oh. My. Goodness.  I hate asking for help.  

Here's another truth:  I'm tired.

This is not the kind of tired that a 14 hour nap will fix (however, I am willing to try if anyone wants to give me the opportunity).  I suspect this is the kind of tired that is soul deep.  That may not ever be fully healed until I'm in Heaven.  This is a lingering, overwhelming tired.  It's a tired that keeps me up at night. 

Since I'm letting it all hang out: I'm overwhelmed.

Am I making the right choices?  Is that what I should spend my time doing?  Should I worry about this?  Have a done enough?  No, really, have I done enough?  How can our family thrive when each day, each hour, sometime each minute is a lesson in survival?  How?  How?  How? Why? Why? Why?

But, and here's the good part.  Here's the only part I have to hang on to.  Here's the part that never gives up and never lets me down.  Here's the truth: God loves me. 

God loves me so much, He knows me and still loves me.  God's love for me showed up as Jesus.

Jesus' life was hard, especially his death.  Brutal, wretched, bloody, gruesome, necessary.  Jesus' hands did literally hurt from the calluses, the broken nails, the bleeding.  For me.  For you.  Jesus understands that life is hard. He knows.  He understands.

Jesus knew about being tired in his soul.  In the Garden of Gethsemane before he's taken away to his death, he said, "My soul is very troubled (Matthew 26:38)." His death was foretold and imminent.  Jesus was tired. He knows.  He understands.

Jesus was overwhelmed.  As he hung on the cross, he was overwhelmed by our sin, the sin he took on for each of us. He cried out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me (Matthew 27:46)?" His why was much bigger than mine will ever be.  His why was for me and for you.  Jesus was overwhelmed. He knows.  He understands.

This is the truth I have to hold onto because it makes all the hard, all the tired, all the overwhelming worth it.  The truth is simple and so, so hard to comprehend.  But that truth is mine.  I just need to remember it and take hold of it. When all else fails (and life is teaching me, it will), this is the truth I cannot forget: God loves me.

I don't have a monopoly on the hardness, the tiredness, and the overwhelming. Each of feels this in some way.  Maybe the season is short for you and maybe it's much longer.  But know that this is your truth too.

God loves YOU.

He knows.

He understand.
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God loves YOU.