i get by...

I wish I could say that things are oh-so-much-better. But I have a small little feeling that I just may be in for a bit of a desert season, a dry riverbed, the misty lowlands…you get the idea.

God is still distant. Words like faith and hope seems dim in my memory. It feels like I am not even sure how to use them anymore. Even love, the one thing I could sometimes hold onto...even love has felt foggy and my heart seems unsure. It is hard to pin down what I really believe.

I do know that some things have helped. It has helped, and felt most significant, to know I am not alone (and neither are you, by the way). The comments left on my last post made me realize I am not the only one feeling this way. Thank you for those. (And, Molly, you may be crazy, but I believe you are the good crazy, like me.) And I was, and am, being cared for by phone calls, heartfelt messages, e-mails, pockets of meaningful conversations, and some real, live cards. “Thank you” feels too small to say, but it’s really all I've got.

It has helped to say “yes” to people who want to help me. To be honest about where I am even when I know some only want to hear that things are getting better. It has helped to be honest with God, even though it looks ugly and feels ugly. To bear my soul in the only way I know how even when the answer (or non-answer) is silence.

It has not helped to get so angry and frustrated at my children. Or to expect Justin to read my mind and act accordingly. I have found that it really does not help to say the f-word over and over in my head, although sometimes I’m still on the fence about that one. And I think I’m done with feeling sorry for myself…pretty sure I’m done, at least.

It has undeniably helped to rely on my friends. To believe it when one says she thinks that what I am experiencing is a deepening of my faith. To hang on to the words of another who shared this quote: “In the dark night of the soul, bright flows the river of God.” And she believes it to be true, whether I can feel it or not. It has helped to believe that I am known and that I am loved. To believe there are friends far and near who understand, who want to be here for me, who care.

I am only reading good fiction, Anne Lamott, and Robert Benson these days. Another set of loyal friends in dire times. Anne wrote this: “Faith is not about how we feel; it is about how we live.” There is something true and hopeful in this that I haven’t even begun to figure out yet…but to hold on to it, to repeat it as a mantra for my little life, it’s about all I can do right now.

If you resonate with any of this, or with the last post, or somewhere in between, I sincerely hope you are being cared for in even the smallest of ways, that you feel even a tiny bit known and loved in the midst of all the doubt, craziness, and uncertainty. I hope God meets you right where you are, meets me right where I am. In the meantime, I guess I will do what another friend suggested: wait for it.