Be Still My Soul

I think I have been waiting to write another blog post until something changed. Either I was suddenly better, getting gradually better, or had a word to describe what has been my life these past two months (as of tomorrow). None of these three apply to me today, but I guess I need to keep writing about what's on my heart, no matter if it's the same thing over and over again.

I'm finding myself saying more often "I can't wait to get back to a normal life" or some rendition of that sentence. Sitting here this afternoon, I literally cannot even remember how a normal daily routine was for me before all of this. Did I really hang out with Owen the entire day by ourselves? Did we really just randomly walk to the park or the library or to get froyo on the Ave? The thought of doing any of these things is something like how I used to think of Christmas or a vacation; my heart skips a beat at how exciting it would be and I am eager to look at my calendar and see the day circled and to count down until said exciting event.

But what happens when there's no count down? What happens when the event, or in this case, the life you're longing for, may or may not happen next week, or in a month, or in a year? How do you couple the longing for what's possibly ahead with the reality of the right now without living completely in a fantasy world or giving into the pain and spiraling into hopelessness?

I'm not sure.

It's this weird tension that I think more often than not I try to ignore and barrel through. And I have been able to barrel through pretty much each time I've been faced with a tension like this, an 'in between' I guess you could call it, because I've found something else to rest my eyes upon.

Unfortunately, most of these things I've found are reactionary and pointless at best. During pregnancy I researched constantly, filling the 'in between' tension with statistics and cribs and recalls and Thomas the Tank Engine onsies. During the years I longed to be married, I filled the 'in between' time with elaborate fantasies of my Prince Charming and a constant comparison and evaluation of nearly every man I came in contact with.

Today I'm in a new 'in between' time. The time between life as I knew it and life as I long for it to be. It's a time of loneliness, of depression, of darkness, of excitement of the possibility of feeling better and then the crash of over exerting myself. It is also a time of snuggles on the couch with my sweet baby, of top-of-the-head kisses from my best friend as he wheels me around in a wheelchair, of having the time to actually watch a book-crazy 16 month-old giggle his way through a pile of books, and of seeing how people around us embody care and encouragement and hope through their sacrifices and generosity and love and prayers.

But even as all of these things describe this 'in between' time, I can't seem to articulate what's really going on in my heart. That longing, no, desperation for answers and for change. The letdown of doctors appointments that confirm nothing but lead to more questions. The fear of nothing changing and of missing out on my life, my marriage, my son. The fear of this not being an 'in between' time.

The idea that this is actually a new normal petrifies me. But then again, at least I would know something, right? It's the not knowing of the 'in between' time that rattles me the most.

In the hours that I have had these last two months to sit and think, I've tried to set my eyes on so many things to distract me. I've pinned a ridiculous amount of pins to boards I may never even look at again. I've checked Facebook far too much and too often and I've posted way too many pictures of random things (and some adorable ones of Owen...) to Instagram. But I've honestly been so scared to just sit. To acknowledge before myself and, more importantly, before Jesus that I am impatient and anxious and scared and frustrated.

I don't want this anymore though.

I want to actually say how this is affecting my heart. I want to not try to cover up my fear with pins about cross stitching necklaces. I want to honestly tell Jesus what he already knows; that I don't want to pick between blowing bubbles with Owen and a lunch out with my mother-in-law because I just want to be able to do both in one day. I want to say aloud that I don't want to have to explain my symptoms one more time to another specialist, because I want them to be gone already. I want to no longer overthink whether or not I am actually sick as much as I think I am, or Andrew thinks I am, or if I am just overreacting.

I want to set my eyes on something other than distractions. Something other than my fears. Something other than myself.

I want to set my eyes on Jesus.

This doesn't mean this 'in between' season gets perfect and I'm all better and totally upbeat and positive about being sick or not being sick or whatever. It just means that I resist the urge to always be put together, to cry when things hurt, and to be vulnerable enough to admit my fears and frustrations. Honestly, all I actually need to do is rest. Rest in Jesus and his already totally finished work on the cross. Rest in the fact hat he was perfect so I don't have to be. Rest in the fact that he is interceding for me right now as I type. That he is my strength when my emotional and physical strength is completely gone and that he understands even when the people I cancel plans on last minute don't.

I'm not sure how to end this post, nothing seems quite sufficient. I know I posted some of the lyrics to a hymn I've been repeating over and over in my mind and soul lately in the previous post, but it seems apropos to end by including them in their entirety.

Until next post,
Sola Dei Gloria

Be still, my soul: the Lord is on thy side.

Bear patiently the cross of grief or pain.

Leave to thy God to order and provide;

In every change, He faithful will remain.

Be still, my soul: thy best, thy heavenly Friend

Through thorny ways leads to a joyful end.

Be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake

To guide the future, as He has the past.

Thy hope, thy confidence let nothing shake;

All now mysterious shall be bright at last.

Be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know

His voice Who ruled them while He dwelt below.

Be still, my soul: when dearest friends depart,

And all is darkened in the vale of tears,

Then shalt thou better know His love, His heart,

Who comes to soothe thy sorrow and thy fears.

Be still, my soul: thy Jesus can repay

From His own fullness all He takes away.

Be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on

When we shall be forever with the Lord.

When disappointment, grief and fear are gone,

Sorrow forgot, love’s purest joys restored.

Be still, my soul: when change and tears are past

All safe and blessèd we shall meet at last.