Light and Dark

Sometimes I don't feel capable of feeling the high of light and the depth of dark at the exact same moment. Instead, I tend to feel nothing, hoping to escape the dark unscathed and not truly experiencing the joy of the light. Why? I don't know exactly. But what I do know is that the this tendency has built up a callousness around my heart making it difficult to love and know love in meaningful ways. This translates into my relationship with God, others and, even, myself, I think. It might sound a little psychobabble-ish but it's true.

While I want to appear as if I'm okay with the variety of my experiences being a mom, really, I'm not. I judge the way that my experience of being a mom does not seem like a blessing. I am ashamed when I'm with groups of other moms and I can't find one positive thing to say about being Wyatt's mom. I get angry with God, thinking, "Why did He allow me to become a mom, knowing that I would not delight in any of it?" I feel bad about these thoughts crossing my mind, as I had so hoped to be a mom and can distinctly remember pleading with God to have a child.

As I type, the "I's" are springing from the page. I, I, I...is it all about me? Apparently. Perhaps being a mom and staying self-focused is not a good fit?

In addition to my deep commitment to all things me, it has also become a pattern to not grieve losses. What difference does this make? It, again, hardens my heart (as my commitment to not feel the pain of loss increases) and distances me from my Father who wants to meet me in the grief and remind me of who He is and how He has redeemed all things for His purposes to restore my hope and faith in His goodness and glory. Without depth in this primary relationship, I no longer know how to trust in the goodness of God during inevitable pain and loss. Cynicism and sadness grow exponentially.

God is helping me to face up to these realities and is revealing Himself. I wish I could kick this selfishness but it lingers daily. My pride leads me to believe I'm a judge, thinking I know what's up and defining what is and is not acceptable to feel.

Part of the process is learning how to grieve in a meaningful, God-honoring way. I don't even know where to begin (though I've been given some great suggestions) but am trusting that God will continue to be a God of comfort, acceptance, transformation and love, and will empower me with courage to continue facing up to life as it is. A good friend recently shared Isaiah 43:18-19 with me and it rings especially true today.

"Forget the former things; do not dwell on the past. See, I am doing a new thing! (I did not add this exclamation point for emphasis, it's actually there.) Now it springs up; do you not perceive it? I am making a way in the desert and streams in the wasteland."

Here's to a new thing. (I can't add my own exclamation point yet.)