i'm talking to the devil

I had lunch with a friend a few weeks ago, and with tears in my eyes I told her I didn't know why I was having such a rough time. As we talked, she quoted this passage from Psalms: "He rescued me from my powerful enemy, from my foes who were too strong for me. They confronted me in the day of my disaster, but the Lord was my support."

She reminded me that the enemy of my soul is ruthless.

He confronts me in the day of my disaster. He kicks me when I'm down. He comes at me from all sides when I'm feeling like I'm at my lowest.

I know she's right. I've seen it. I've lived it.

While there are many Christians who blame the devil for far too much, I know I don't blame him nearly enough.

I need to get better at recognizing his schemes.

I've got to realize sooner when he's attempting to steal, kill, and destroy in my life.

I need to catch on quicker when he sends my heart spiraling with false accusations.

Because I can't fight an enemy I don't acknowledge.

And though I've been fighting, I haven't actually been fighting against the enemy as much as I need to be.

So I'm gonna be talking to the devil more than usual today.

I'm gonna call him out for the thief and liar that he is. I'm gonna remind him of the truth God says about me. I'm gonna look him in the eye and declare, "Do not gloat over me, my enemy! Though I have fallen, I will rise."

This battle's not over yet.

And I'm staying in the ring.

maybe this is my new normal

I still choose indoors over outdoors, even on a gorgeous day. I still come to life when I talk about vision, passion, and Africa. I still make strange faces (and noises) without even realizing it. I still love deeply.

For the most part, I'm still the same me I was before my world shattered out from under my feet.

For the most part.

But there are a lot of ways I'm a different person than I was before my husband left me.

Emotional trauma changes us.

It changed me.

My life is forever split between before and after.

And after-me isn't the same as before-me.

Some of the changes are healthy, good, freeing.

But many aren't.

I "lived tired" before, but I still kept a fast (and full) rhythm in life and ministry. Now I simply don't have the energy to keep even half that pace. I've taken living tired to a whole new level while doing far less in a day than I've ever done.

My heart is more tender and my skin is less thick. Things that shouldn't hurt me, hurt me. My emotions are all over the place. I can spiral from high to low very quickly. And that scares me for a long list of reasons I'll never be able to share in this space.

Trust has always been the Achilles' heel of my life. But now I physically feel the fear of trusting in a way I can't even begin to describe.

I get overwhelmed far easier. By to-do lists, emails, appointments, the pile of books I want to read... everything. It all just overwhelms me. And by overwhelm, I mean incapacitate.

I tell people I have Fuzzy Brain Syndrome. I lose my concentration. I'm constantly distracted. I can't remember things---things I should remember. Things I want to remember. I so often can't even think of the word I'm trying to say. Not just occasionally. Frequently.

I'm just not the same person I used to be.

And, to be honest, I don't like who I've become.

I'm living with diminished capacity.

It's frightening, frustrating, angering, and crazy-making all at the same time.

And I'm starting to think it might not be temporary.

Maybe this isn't something I can bounce back from.

Maybe this is my new normal.

Which means I need to face yet another loss.

The loss of ... me.

Of who I am. How I am.

Before I can accept who I've become, I need to grieve the loss of who I was.

I need to let go of before-me.

And trust that God can still make something beautiful out of after-me.

battle-weary

Re-entry's been rather bumpy. I don't know if it's that my heart hasn't caught up with the rest of me yet or what. But I've had an emotional few days since getting back from my dreamcation.

Actually it started my last night on the cruise ship.

The moment I put my head on my pillow to go to sleep, my mind started reeling. My thoughts bounced between Africa and Atlanta. They ricocheted between past, present, and future. And I felt anxiousness taking over my heart. Physically felt it.

It was as though someone was sitting on my chest.

My eyes kept filling with tears even though I was willing myself not to cry. No amount of melatonin or prayer worked to knock me out. I was up all night, tossing and turning.

As we pulled into port and I began the long day of traveling back to the east coast, I was overwhelmed with a sense of not belonging. Anywhere.

And all week I haven't been able to shake the anxiety, doubts, and insecurities. The panic-attack-esque chest pressure keeps returning. And yesterday I just couldn't seem to stop crying.

Tonight is a bit better, after a worship service at church. As "my song" started, I heard God's whisper in my heart. Even when I feel unwanted, unneeded, and like I don't belong, it's okay. Because even when no one else is, He is jealous for me.

He is jealous for me.

I'm gonna be repeating that over and over as I head to bed. And as I start my day tomorrow.

Because my heart still feels very tentative. Tender. Sensitive. My emotions are still brewing just beneath the surface. And the tears keep coming.

But my battle-weary heart feels a tiny bit stronger than it did this morning.

And for that I'm grateful.

now i get it

This week last year was hell on earth. I honestly don't know how I managed to stay standing breathing. I'd finally found irrefutable proof of my husband's affair---evidence I knew he wouldn't be able to deny or push back on me. But for a long list of complicated reasons, I had to wait until the end of the week to confront him with it. I had interns who deserved the best debriefing possible. And I had Thanskgiving to cook for 30-some-odd people.

So I said nothing to him about it.

I told only my Kitty, and her frequent phone calls and texts got me through the seemingly never-ending week. Somehow I led debriefing sessions, prayed over my beloved interns, drove 16 hours home, cooked for a small army, and hosted a holiday meal. All with evidence of my husband's lengthy unfaithfulness tucked in my back-pocket.

And the morning after Thanksgiving, I pulled the cord.

The weight of that week---that I couldn't express or let out last year---is weighing on me now. And it's crushing me. If my sweet friend were here, I'd cry it out on the bathroom floor yet again.

But still I know, just like a year ago, I will keep standing. Keep breathing. Even when I don't know how. And even when I don't want to.

God, You are Redeemer. Redeem even this.

Redeem even this.

my heart is tired

The past few weeks have been full of some really great things. But when I landed back in Atlanta last night, I knew I was more than just physically tired. My heart is weary, too. And that frustrates me. I've spent time doing things I love with people I love, and yet... my heart has settled back into this valley-like funk. Hmph. The past two years have destroyed the holidays for me. I hope they get redeemed at some point, but right now they just feel... hard. And my eyes can't help but fill as I let my thoughts wander to the days ahead (and the days past).

I wish I could fast-forward through the next six weeks. A time that used to be my favorite of the whole year now just amplifies my loneliness and heartache. I hate it.

I'm already tired of it and it hasn't even really started yet.

I know all the things I'm supposed to do to pull myself up by the bootstraps and get through this. I know. I know. I KNOW!

I'm simply too tired (inside and out) to do it right now.

Thankfully "God helps those who helps themselves" isn't in the Bible.

But this is: "He lifted me out of the pit of despair, out of the mud and the mire. He set my feet on solid ground and steadied me as I walked along."

While I don't have it in me to do anything right now, I'm hoping that God will show up and once again do what He does best:

Rescue the helpless.