Seasons changes are guaranteed. I love seasons changing. It was always a magical time & something I looked forward to celebrating with my kids. Seeing their faces on the first snow or finding the first bloom. Most of the time, even if we don’t look forward to a long winter, the changing of seasons is magical. 

This year’s been a lot less magical. 

At the beginning of the year, I barely noticed the seasons changing because I was in newborn land. That was enough change for me! The birth of my second son right at the holiday season. Missing Christmas wasn’t so bad because I got to hold him. I could do this. 

We experienced different seasons then. Newborn season changed to colic season. That season lasted a long time. Many seasons changed during those times and it was all blurry whites, grays, blues & greens. The outside seasons didn’t really matter, the seasons inside of our house were more than enough to take in. It was heavy & hard. I looked forward to it being the next season. 

The next season was not so good. Insomnia returned. Even while my baby slept, I couldn’t. Days went by with little to none. My body would lay there for hours, exhausted & when sleep finally started to fade in, my body would jerk itself back awake not allowing coveted sleep in. Grief was everywhere & touched everything. Life was hard to live feeling like at any moment I’d whither away. Moments taken from me – baby’s laughter, firsts, smiles I could’ve had. I think about all of that & more with heaviness in my heart. What could God be thinking allowing this to happen to me? Months & months of this season of insanity, desperation. Losing everything I was & losing precious moments with my kids. Watching them grow so fast while I was a shell of a mom, so undeserved for them. 

Who knew seasons overlapped…

Within these came the darkest: husband sick. Of all the seasons & changes I’ve experienced, this was indeed the worst. There’s nothing magical about seeing your strong husband dwindling before your eyes. Nothing magical about seeing his color change, his hair thin, his body shrink. Nothing magical about the desperation, tears, prayers unanswered. Nothing magical about feeling like time is still passing with nothing getting better. And absolutely nothing helping. Trying everything I can & everything I could imagine with no results. Months & months & months. Tears & tears. Why does it have to happen to the better one of us? Why do these seasons overlap resulting in stretched thin lives, relational hurts, outbursts, inability to comfort? I thought God was good. 

The shade of these seasons colored everything around me. The changing seasons of the world so lackluster. So grayscale. All saturation sucked out of them. Each of the joys experienced, like a cage not letting my heart get too high, but stay sunken so low. 

Medications, counselors, doctors, prayer partners – no answers anywhere. Postpartum depression? Maybe, but circumstances make it hard to ever get better when they just keep getting worse. Faithlessness? For sure. My faith dried up. With no answers or assurance, it’s so hard to keep pressing on. 

What could I possibly have to be thankful for? 

I know I always do. Jay & I say it almost daily. We got another day, Jesus died on the cross for us, God loves us. There’s always hope. Every day I wake up is another day alive, with my boys, with Zak. I wish my heart could feel the hope there is in those words. But it’s been beaten into submission more times than not this year & told to be okay & feel better – or else! I just can’t fake it anymore. I’m hopeless. 

Is there anything good that’s come from this? 

Yes, of course. The first & most wonderful is our son which was the shining light at the beginning hasn’t ever dimmed. Yes, there were times I couldn’t bare to be around him due to his crying, but he’s a lot better now. Still fussy, but much better. He’s my sweet angel boy, who I love to hug & comfort as I wish someone could do for me. 

I think I’ve softened, too. I used to be proud of how straight I was – this is the way, the answer, the reason, etc. Now, I’m not so sure. It’s not that simple. I hear of someone in pain, I can’t judge them anymore. I have no idea what they’re going through. I can’t change them, I can’t even help them. I can pray for them, cry with them. My sorrow abounds for you. 

I also realize time is short. I don’t want to stop doing what I’m doing because there’s important things to be done in life – even if we feel like shit, look like shit, don’t have our shit together (or shit ourselves.) I just hope, if anything, I’m useful in the end. I feel so much has been taken out of me through these hard times. So much of who I was has changed. Getting outside of myself is sometimes the only thing I know that will help me I got to babysit some beautiful kids, study the Bible with some amazing women, make meals for new mothers… somehow, these things are the highlights. Along with the little things – making my house tidy, cooking meals, taking walks, showers, working out – small accomplishments to make me think all is well. And of course, when my mind allows, my boys, my husband, our family. We still have each other & time, thus far. We don’t know what’s going to happen next, but I have to trust God is good. He brought me out of many seasons before. I know he can, he will. One way or another. 

I’ve been having a really hard time lately. I know I’m not the only one & this isn’t anything special it’s just life being life doing life things by getting harder – or so I’ve heard. It’s not like I’m even experiencing anything terrible or out of my worst fears or dreams more like it’s just been hard. And it’s like, OK. 

Truthfully, I’ve not been ok, but while it’s hard it’s so comforting to know that it is OK and it will be OK. I should have my ability to complain card taken from me because even though life is hard, I have so many things to help ease the strength & persistence of the hard, so many things and people to make it easier. For which I am so grateful. Without my mom living just 8 minutes away & always willing to be on call for me & the boys – how would I make it? To have a husband that is the most patient, calm person I’ve ever met even while he’s struggling & shrinking away, is a true blessing. To have friends who do not judge me rather offering their help, hope & prayers – people would kill to have this kind of support. And lastly mentioned, as weighty things sink down low so does this, I have faith. 

Now, I don’t always have faith. In fact, I’ve shocked myself with how little faith I have. Like, I thought I was better at this whole faith thing than I actually am. But when the tough gets going my immediate reactions are nowhere near anything faith related. I’ll try really hard to set my mind on faithful things, talking to God, reading his word, thinking about other people/ministry, but most of the time I’m so drained, foggy, exhausted, hopeless that nothing absorbs past my eyeballs or more than a few sentences. 

So I’ve really questioned my notoriety as a faithful woman. I sure as shit ain’t doing God any favors to his glory right now. If someone were to walk in randomly to my life, they’d probably see me at my worst in no way representing Jesus Christ. Ah yes, how far the mighty have fallen. I say that in jest I guess because I think through this process of life getting harder my perspective is trying to flip itself around while the old way of seeing things & doing things is clinging tightly to the past. 

Old way/current way: I must be faithful & prove my faith by doing these things. If I’m not feeling faithful or sensing God’s presence, I must be doing something wrong and I must try harder. Me, me, me. 

New way: God is good. God is able. God gives me daily needs. God blesses me. God is good. God is able. God is faithful. God does not forget about his people. God is just. God fulfills. 

I want to cling to the old because it fuels my fire. I’ve always gotten a high like taking a hit when I act on faith & see the fruit. Wow, that was cool, I want to do that again. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a wonderful feeling seeing significance in action & God using measly old me to do something good in the world or for another person. 

But then life comes in hard, strong & fast & levels ya. You don’t know which way is up or right or wrong. Depleted in every way, then who’s to say? I can’t make it on my own, I can’t make decisions right now, I forgot to feed my kids breakfast, when’s the last time I showered, is my husband going to be OK today? 

That whole spinning vortex sucks you in like water swirling down the drain, along for the ride, nothing to hide, no way of stopping. Waiting your turn to tumble on in because maybe then you’ll catch a break or an in. But then it starts all over again. (Sorry, I’ve been listening to a lot of folk music, so it makes me think I’m rhyme-y & witty, too.) Point: suddenly you’re useless. Or at least you feel you are because before it was all about the next big thing & now you can’t do anything, but the next thing. 

So, then life gets smaller in some ways – it’s just about the next thing. Can I take care of the boys, can I make sure all are fed? Can I make it? 

The only thing that matters then is the Lord. Because what else makes sense? Life’s exploded & hard to enjoy even the good things are in black in white. Nothing lasts or is worth thinking or planning because hope in the thing after the next is like taking a stone kite to out to fly. 

I remember his face & his promises. I think about him & what he’s done. I think about how wonderful it’s been to know & be known by him & to know he knows where I’ve been & what’s to come. I remember how I used to imagine him in my car sitting next to me, what a comfort that would bring. Instead of imagining his praise for me, I sing praises for him. I take up those promises I learned before & really begin to apply them, they hold like nothing else does. 

So, when the going get tough & the tough gets going, it’s no longer about me or what I’ve done. There’s only one solution, one calming action I’ve taken on – and that’s the “surpassing value of knowing Christ” who somehow still gives a shit about little old me, running on empty with nothing to give, his portions are mighty.