It’s been quiet here for a while. I’ve started to tell about my Spring multiple times but it doesn’t come out quite right.
In the first or second week of May, we were forced to decide Jeff wouldn’t be able to walk at graduation. He has his diploma. But I was looking forward to the event. To the celebration, where he would walk among friends and shake hands with professors after so.much.hard.work. But it’s a little tough to celebrate when just getting to the rehearsal and ceremony would require more than your budget can handle these days and eating ham sandwiches on the drive home would be your lunch that day. So, we decided to stay home on that Saturday.
The day we decided this had to happen, something in my heart snapped. I’ve had a hard time putting it to words. But it doesn’t stop the thoughts of “If only…” from coming. Because he was really supposed to graduate last May. But, as you know, we went to Kansas.
And Kansas took. It took more than I had to give from the day we arrived. It took and took and left pain in its wake. My brain is still trying to make sense of it all, even when I’m asleep. Nearly every Saturday I dream about that place again and wake up in a panic on Sunday morning.
You can call it resistance. You can call it spiritual warfare. Whatever you want to label it. You can give up on me. You can even scold me for being overly optimistic about the end of seminary and for being idealistic. Fine. Whatever. All I wanted to do was see my husband graduate.
The closest I’ve come to a definition is what Emily Freeman says about cynicism—it comes when she’s frustrated and passionate without hope. Oh, yes, passion mixed with frustration. Only for the last four damn years. Most days none of what we’ve walked through seems worth it.
I am simply at my end. We are on to new endeavors. I am cautiously excited about them. Praying through each step and begging God not to allow these to be taken from us too.
Because I can’t take anymore. I can’t.
And we can say that all this frustration is working out strength in me. We can quote verses about perseverance and God never giving us more than us can handle.
But I don’t feel that strength is being worked out in me. I feel incredibly weak and hurt. And tired. Mostly tired. I can’t even express myself in many words anymore.
So, I’m going to close this post now. I’ll return to the blog when I can. Sorry I can’t be my usual God-will-work-it-all-out self. I’m not saying He won’t. This is just where I am these days.