Today’s guest post is by Aleah Marsden, my new friend and buddy at the Redbud Writers Guild. I love Aleah’s fun and faith, and her faith-filled down-to-earth writing: I think you will too. Aleah blogs at Depth of The Riches.
I could blame it on being tired. Six hours of sleep a night is just not enough to fuel my grueling sprint through my day. I could blame it on hormones, always a convenient excuse for a woman no matter what time of the month it is. It could have been because I was already overwhelmed and hearing that another new productivity plan I had implemented for my day was failing (which deep inside I already knew) was the straw that sent this camel crashing.
Regardless, it doesn’t change the fact that I threw an all-out, angry, sobbing, fists clenched tantrum.
I could call it a ‘lament’ to sound more spiritual, but I’ve been a mom to four little ones long enough to recognize a tantrum when I see it. All the signs leading up to it are obvious in hindsight: lack of sleep, frustration with not being able to control my environment, and just a general spirit of crankiness and dissatisfaction that I have been battling for some time.
It all came to a head last night in the kitchen. I sobbed and pounded my fists and I was MAD at God for the way He made me. I questioned His plans, I doubted His love. In the strongest language I could dare to muster I called Him unkind. I said He was mean and that He had given me gifts that were useless for my practical life and then abandoned me.
I wondered how “the God who sees me” would handle this situation. Would He scold me for my complete lack of faith, shake me and tell me to get it together? Does He subscribe to the “cry it out” method and take a step back and let me wear myself out? Was He going to wrap His arms of comfort around me… but I just wasn’t in the mood for a hug and wasn’t going to take a pacifier.
Much like with one of my kids I eventually wore myself out. My eyes stung, my head ached, and my pride bristled. I fell asleep while my husband (who had valiantly attempted to encourage me) was praying for me, as I refused to be comforted, feeling unrepentant and a bit rebellious.
I awoke to my 5am alarm. This is the time I have set aside to meet with my Father before diving into the deep end of my crazy days. I approached Him sheepishly. With an awkward, I’m not sure what to say about last night, I mumbled an invitation for Him to join me in my study this morning– not really sure if He would. Maybe this was the time I had pushed Him too far.
Yet again, in His grace-full way He opened my eyes to exactly the right words I needed for this morning. A servant who questioned Him, the blessing of having someone to encourage you when you can’t see the promises for yourself, and God’s long-suffering nature that has patience with people who don’t deserve it.
I still have a lingering emotional hangover this morning. I’m not sure if what I was shown was a shake, a step back, or a hug. I’m suspicious that it may have been all three. Nothing miraculously changed in my circumstances. But the anger has burned off leaving me to sit in the ashes of shame and repentance. I cannot call Him mean and He showed me that I have certainly not been abandoned.
Maybe that’s all the grace I can stomach today.