I’m a single mom – to three kids under the age of six. I teach high school – to the kids that don’t “get” math (or school for that matter). In those roles, and others, I have a million things to juggle. I don’t need to list them.
This evening, the big wall clock above my piano ticks away the seconds. Centered across the clock, there is a quote. It says “Live the Life you’ve always Imagined.” I’m tired. It’s after 11pm. Is this the life I imagined? Ummmmm…… no. Not in a million years. When I got that clock, shortly after moving here to Spokane to start over, it was to inspire me to rise above. To reach for my dreams and make things better instead of getting bogged down in what has happened and what my life HASN’T been. But tonight, I can’t. Tonight the ticking clock does not soothe. Time isn’t full of possiblities, it marks unreached potential. It marks not being capable of everything I want and need to do. It does not feel possible for me to lead a life I imagine. Tonight the passing seconds feel like time that I can’t control. Time that is never enough.
As I sit here with my financial algebra textbooks sprawled out in front of me, my teacher lesson planner book with all my marks, erases, and remarks…. I also see a new medical bill that has come in from Anali’s visit to the ER last summer (yes it’s December 30, and they are still billing me). I have a plate of half eaten chocolate chip cookies and my second glass of milk. And then a manila envelope from my lawyer – I’ve come to hate those big envelopes – with the final divorce decrees and a bill for her services.
Now the walk clock is ticking away marking the pain. The pain of the two interactions I had with the kids’ dad today over silly things. I call them “interactions” because if you knew us in our past life, we never fought or even exchanged barbed words. It wasn’t us. It still isn’t. But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt. That doesn’t mean that when he leaves for the evening after his time with the kids that I don’t sit here lonely and full of angst over what I never had and how I still am fighting for respect and kindness from a man who cannot give that to me.
Just as my head and heart feels like its going to burst, I lay my head down on top of the textbook and send up one word…. “Abba”.
A gentle whisper – “Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”
Seriously? My head pops up and my eyes brim. This is a light burden? I know I’m supposed to receive instant comfort from that verse. Wouldn’t a good Christian take that and meditate on it, falling asleep to its soothing promise and not stare at the pile on the counter in front of me mocking me with every tick tock from my clock?
Yet, I’ve been learning to live real. The real me hurts. The real me needs to challenge those words so that I get it. And God is big enough to take the challenge. I don’t lose “brownie points” for being real with God. Let’s face it…. He’s the king of the world. If I can handle tantrums all day long from my Zeke-man, He can take one from me.
In just the way that I hold Zeke and keep him from flopping his head against the wood floor as he screams about the latest toy that his sister took away or the betrayal of his favorite motorcyle that just.wont.work., God holds me in my impertinence as well. I often will quietly whisper in Z’s ear while he’s wailing away, “Make a good choice buddy…. make a good choice.” And now I hear His voice saying, “Just ask me. Just trust me and I’ll show you. Make a good choice… trust.”
My problem is that I’m defining the “burden”. I’m making it about the papers, the textbooks, the unfinished lesson plans, the endless bills, the pressure from my “inspiring” clock. I’m coming to Him, and dragging my burden with me and calling it His. Its not. His “light burden” is freedom. Freedom from perfection. Freedom from doing everything right. Freedom from needing to be the teacher that saves the world. Freedom from being responsible for holding my precious daughter’s heart during this painful time. Freedom from not being enough. My burden is everything BUT freedom. His burden is simple…. and for me, Micah 6:8 sums it up better than anything else. “Act justly. Love mercy. Walk humbly with your God.”
I have yoked myself up with expectations. My worth and value is found in a clean house, happy family members, proud people cheering me on from the sidelines. I’m have quite RESOUNDLY failed in all three of those categories! That yoke IS heavy. Its impossible to bear…. but His yoke is love….. acceptance…. approval because I am His and not because of what I’ve done…. His yoke is a symbol of His arms wrapped tightly around me.
Now the clock isn’t ticking at me a taunt for all that I am unable to do. To be. Now the rhythmic clock is ticking “Love you. love you. love you. love you.”
I love you so much, Kristy. Your honesty here was beautifully expressed. You are so strong, so brave, and so real. You have been taking on so much. I pray for peace for you in the coming year ❤️.
Kristy, your name popping up on my feed this morning, in the new year, made me sit up in bed. I clicked here immediately. Your new public truth is in front of me for a reason today, and I want you to know that letting people read it and know it and and reflect in it is inspired work. Thank you so very much.
You are loved Kristy very much. Praying that you keep growing in Abba’s truth. For as he said “you shall know the truth and the truth shall set you free.” Though I often hesitated to step out and act on truth because it seemed so bizarre so counter intuitive, I have never regretted obedience to Abba. Even when asked to walk out into a storm.
So hard to read yet doing so brings the true perspective, Hope as we learn how to keep putting one foot forward, only one at a time. I love you!
Bless you, My Dear Sis. Wishing I had learned these lessons when I was your age. Not that I would ever wish upon you what you’ve been through. How brilliant of you to stay teachable and faithful. You inspire me.