Sunday Sum Up: Getting Up

It's been colder lately.  The fall season officially started well over a month ago, but lately the cold has really started to creep in.  The sun is still shining, but there's less heat in it--not enough heat to warm the icy wind.  I used to be the sort of person who didn't mind the cold so much.  Maybe it was after I lost a significant amount of weight (twice) that I started feeling the cold deep down in my bones.  And when the cold gets into my bones, it can take me hours before I feel warm again.  And then when the fall comes, I start coughing.  My nose gets stuffy.  I have to rely on generic Claritin to be able to function semi-normally.  Most people have seasonal allergies in the spring; mine don't come until fall and winter.

I really think I'm allergic to cold.

This morning when I woke to the sun shining through my windows, I first thought that I'd overslept.  Then I realized the time had changed, and 8 a.m is the new 7 a.m.  Or something like that.  My second thought, once I realized that I hadn't overslept, was that I really didn't want to get out of bed.  It wasn't because I knew that my bed was much warmer than the rest of my apartment.  It wasn't because I was still tired after an extra hour of sleep.  It wasn't because I was hoping to drift back into some wonderful dream involving a mid-90's version of Bill Pullman making me some banana pancakes and turkey bacon for breakfast.  It was because I really just didn't see much point in getting out of bed.

And seriously...I really think humans should take a cue from bears.  We should stuff ourselves full of food and then just lie in our caves beds all winter.  Humans should totally hibernate.

Yes, the fall depression has hit me.  I really didn't expect it this year, just because I figured if I was going to get it, I would have already gotten it.  But I guess it didn't want to come until it got good and cold.  See, every time the weather gets colder and the days get shorter, I get depressed.  It's nothing too severe.  It's been happening since college (and probably before that, too, but it's hard to tell because I was sort of emo in high school--before emo was cool...or even invented).  When I first noticed it, I didn't know what to do with it, so I freaked out.  That's kind of what I do when presented with anything new.  I freak out.  But later on, once I realized what was going on, I stopped freaking out.  When the depression hit, when I started having that feeling like, "Oh, there's no point in getting out of bed again.  Ever," I'd just get out of bed anyway.  I'd put on my big girl pants and deal with it--because I'm going to have to work and pay bills and be nice to my friends whether I'm depressed or not.

Only, I really gotta say, I just don't want to write this blog today.  I don't want to do much of anything besides lie around and eat candy.  I could give myself an excuse to do that, since I did successfully finish my first 10K yesterday (and by "successfully," I mean that I jogged/waddled the whole thing, I didn't die, and there were at least five three people who finished after I did).  But since I ate candy, cheese biscuits, and Chick-fil-a yesterday, I'm pretty sure I ate three five times as many calories as I burned off yesterday.

Sometimes, I really think it's okay to not feel like writing or blogging.  I just get afraid sometimes that my lack of writing desire is lasting too long.  I didn't feel much like blogging this week because I'd just gotten back from a short vacation, and oddly enough, I needed to recover from my vacation.  Also, I was busy training for a 10K and working my usual three five guess a number between one and ten jobs.  So I'm fairly surprised I got any blogging done at all.  And sometimes I think it's good to take a break from blogging so that you can actually spend some time living.  It's just that I wasn't living so much this week as I was sitting on my bum watching reruns of M.A.S.H.

But, you know, I'm oddly grateful for this feeling of depression--as long as I don't let it decay into true apathy.  I need to care about my writing.  I need to care about my work.  I need to care about the people in my life.  I need to care about life in general, and I need to remember that it's not about how I feel or even about me at all.  Because that one word that's defining this whole season of my life keeps reappearing.

Hope.

I was reading in Romans yesterday, and I came to chapter 8.  Surely, this is one of the best Biblical chapters to read after running a 10K.  I like a lot of what Paul said in this chapter, but this is the part that really got me:

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God.  For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God.  For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our body. For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it." Romans 8:18-25

I don't know if I'm right in my perceptions or not, but it seems to me that God's reminding me to keep hoping, to keep waiting and trusting.  I keep seeing/hearing so many reminders, whether it's a song on the radio, an impatient child at work, a word from a friend, or a Word from Scripture.  I'm reminded to hope.  And I can't help but think that there's a reason I'm being called to persevere in this time of my life.  I think it's because some of the things I've hoped and waited for are coming soon.


I don't deserve to have anything good come to me, but I've been commanded to wait for it anyway.  The Father who won't give us a stone when we ask for bread, or a snake when we ask for a fish, He knows how to give us good things.  I'm not talking about the "prosperity gospel" here at all.  It's just that I know my Father has already given me the greatest Hope.  In hope in Christ, I have been saved.  And I will see the fulfillment of that hope.

But while I'm still down here, living in a body that is affected by heat and cold, by changes in the seasons, by the passage of time, by sickness and sin...I must wait.  I must wait for the fulfillment of that great Hope, and I must wait for the fulfillment of smaller hopes.  But there is work to do while I'm waiting.  There are people all around who need that great Hope, and there are people all around me who need smaller hopes.  And I've been given breath to breathe and songs to sing and hands (though horribly chapped by this blasted cold wind!) to work.  I can't hibernate, even if I think it's a really good idea.  I have to get out of bed in the morning.

Because I believe there's going to be a Time and Place where the wind will be warm, even without the sun.  We won't need the sun anymore, because the Lord will be our light.  That's the hope that lights all my other hopes.  So I'm going to rise, and keep rising, whether I feel like it or not. 

Filtered Through Grace

You may remember the birthday par-tay I wrote about in my last post.  I needed that particular birthday par-tay to be over in time for me to be out the door at 4:15 so I could make it to my church choir practice at 4:30.  I discussed this with Miss Stefanie before agreeing to take the birthday par-tay gig.  She assured me they knew they were supposed to be completely done at 4:15, and that I would be able to leave on time. 

The birthday party (sorry, I couldn't pull of the par-tay thing anymore) didn't end until 4:25.  I practically pushed the family out the door at 4:30. 

And I was ticked off.  Not at Miss Stefanie, but at the situation.  And I'm making a public apology to Miss Stefanie right now, because while I didn't blame her for the incident, I did send her a not-nice text right after the party assuring her that I would NOT be doing any more birthday parties.  Basically, I was a jerk.

Sorry, Miss Stefanie.  You rock.  ...and I'm still not doing anymore birthday parties, but this time I'm not saying it in my "angry voice." 

But Sunday afternoon, as I was driving, already late for choir practice, I remember seething about the whole situation.  "I'm late!" I told myself.  "The people having the party made me late!  I agreed to be somewhere else right now, and I had to break a commitment!"  Really, it wasn't that big of a deal at all that I showed up 15 minutes late to choir practice, but I felt I had to be justifiably angry about something.  So I picked the whole "breaking a commitment thing" because it sounded nice and righteous.  Never you mind that I'm often about 5 minutes late just because I have trouble leaving my apartment on time....

Then yesterday, I really wanted to go running.  My foot was hurting over the weekend, and so I had decided to rest it until last night.  Then last night I was going to start training for my 10K (which is a month from today--yikes!).  It was all gonna work out.  I wasn't supposed to work last night--I was just "on call" because the mom I work for was "on call."  And she hardly ever gets called in.  But she did.  So I did, too.

And the dad was supposed to be home in time for me to meet with my running group, but then he wasn't.  That wasn't his fault and I didn't blame him.  It was just that by the time I got off it was too late to meet my running group, and in fact, it was too dark to go run at all.

So I went home with full intentions to get on my elliptical and at least get some exercise.  Instead, I threw myself a minor cranky-pants party and ate a few handfuls of candy corn. 

I was pouting.  I was pouting because things didn't go my way again.  And, once again, it was something good that I wanted to do that another obligation prevented me from doing. 

And after several minutes of being a cranky-pants, I finally started talking to God.  Only I wasn't being very nice about the whole thing.  The gist of my prayer was, "God, the stuff I'm wanting to do is good stuff.  I wanted to run and start training for that 10K, and I need to do it.  You know I need to do it.  Why would You allow that to be prevented from happening?  This is like the other night when I wanted to be on time for choir practice, and You allowed that to be prevented, too.  What's up with that?"

God  responded, "Oh, so you're asking me now?  I was wondering if you were ever going to get around to that.  Yes, I allowed this.  I allowed it because you obviously have something to learn from it."

Ouch.

It's been a slow, sometimes painful lesson, but God is gradually teaching me that every single thing that comes my way is filtered through grace.  I've said that before on here, and I'll probably say it again.  I'm repetitive because that's how I learn.  Through repetition.  As God's repeating these lessons and themes in my life, they're bound to come up again and again in my blogging. 

Everything that comes my way is something God allows.  As hard as it is for me to trust, this is a difficult concept to wrap my brain around.  If everything seems to be going well, God allows that.  If a kid gets snot all over my sweater, while I'm pleading, "Let's not snot Miss Ruth's sweater, please," God allows that.  If my brakes start making squeaky noises that lead me to assume I've got even MORE work that needs to be done on my car, God allows that.  If hectic life situations prevent me from doing something noble that I really want to do, God allows that.  And if God allows it, then God will provide grace to get through it, one way or another. 

Please don't think I'm making light of life.  I know the examples I listed above might seem really trite and unimportant.  Getting snot on my sweater isn't a huge deal.  Needing new brakes on my car is a little bit bigger of a deal.  But I have no idea what my readers are going through.  You might be experiencing a tremendous heartache that doesn't make sense.  You might have lost a loved one.  You might have found out someone you love has cancer.  You might be suffering through another month of unemployment and financial difficulty.  You might be struggling with addictions, with anger, with rejection, with fear.

I don't know what you're going through.  But I know that God is near to the brokenhearted.  And I know that His grace is sufficient.  God may or may not have caused whatever issues you're dealing with.  Sometimes our pain is the result of our own sin; sometimes it's the result of someone else's sin.  Sometimes life just stinks.  Whether or not God has caused our pain and problems, He has allowed these things in our lives.  Sometimes that's to teach us something; sometimes that's just to bring us closer to what we really need in Him.  Honestly, I don't know all the reasons why we have to struggle.

But I firmly believe there is mercy in those struggles.  If He's allowed them, He will provide what we need to get through them.  It might not be what we expect or desire, but provision will be there.

Everything we encounter is filtered through grace.  And lately, the small inconveniences in my life have been opportunities to trust God.  They've also been opportunities to love others.  And sometimes I fail and sometimes I succeed, but God is faithful to keep teaching me in the midst of all of it. 

And I still have no clue where He's leading me, but I know He's changing me.  He's preparing me for something that's probably going to take a little bit of flexibility on my part.  These little tests He's allowing are preparing me for greater challenges that I'm going to face further down the road.  I'm learning.  I'm learning to love others even when they've inconvenienced me or even drastically hurt me.  I'm learning to trust God even when I can't see rhyme or reason for what's going on in my life.  I know I'm not there yet, but right now I'm just overwhelmed that God would love me enough to work on me, to make me more into the person He wants me to be. 

Sweater snot happens.  Flat tires and bum brakes happen.  Heartbreaks happen.  Deaths happen.  Pain and problems and annoyances and outbursts and bills and illnesses and stress and struggles happen. 

There is mercy in the struggle.

Everything is filtered through grace.

Everything is an opportunity to trust God and to love others.

We can't control what other people do to us, but we can choose to love.  We can choose to trust and obey.  It's not easy, but there's grace for that, too.

Sunday Update: Quick Version

I have to keep this quick because I have to go to work in a few minutes.  I typically do NOT work on Sundays, but there's a birthday par-tay at one of the places where I work, and no one else wanted to do it.  Neither did I, really, but somebody had to.  So, Miss Stefanie, if you're reading this, yes, you do owe me big time.  And I love you.  And you're awesome.  And I had better get out of there by 4:15, or I'm coming to get you in your sleep.

1. I got to talk to friends this week.  Actual friends.  That was nice.  In the world of multiple jobs and sometimes multiple personalities, it's nice to be able to find time to just grab a cup of coffee with a friend.  While I haven't done anything official towards my new project/experiment thing, I was able to get some good encouragement and some good ideas from those conversations.  I'm very grateful God gives us friends.

2. I signed up for a 10K (6.2 miles) which will take place on Nov. 5, which, in case you're keeping track of the passage of time, is just a little over a month from now.  Most days, I'm able to comfortably run 3 miles.  Sometimes I can do 4.  I haven't attempted more than that, and lately, my running has been increasingly difficult.  Last week I got sick on Saturday while trying to run.  I also got sick on Tuesday, partly because it was humid as...um, something really humid.  Thursday, however, I ran a really good 3 miles and would have run more if it wasn't already too dark for personal comfort.  Then Friday, my left ankle (which I badly sprained like 7-8 years ago) started hurting like the dickens.  Like the dickens, I tell you.  I don't even know what that phrase really means, but my ankle hurt.  So I'm hoping it's just being mean because it doesn't like the colder weather we've been having, because I really need my ankle to start being nice again.  A nice ankle or two are kind of important to training for and running a 10K.

3) I broke a rule and checked out a library book.  I"m not supposed to be reading right now--not for fun anyway.  But see, I was at the library with the kids I watch, and the almost 13 yr old recommended this book, so I HAD to check it out.  I haven't read it yet, so there's a possibility I might just take it back without getting caught up, but...yeah, I'll probably read it.  And the two books that follow it in the series. 

4) I need to start editing one of my books.  I was supposed to start that this week.  I did not.  Feel free to poke me with sharp objects until I start doing what I'm supposed to be doing.

5) Please keep praying for me for wisdom, courage, and a good kick in the pants.  And also that my ankle starts liking me again.  And that I don't die on November 5.

Thanks!