Renewing My Strength

Weary; someone used that word recently to describe how they were feeling. Not "tired;" they said they were weary. I can relate. Though my situation has improved greatly over the last few months (meaning I am doing more than simply surviving), I have by no means recovered from the struggles or stress of the last eighteen months.

According to the free online Merriam-Webster dictionary, weary means "exhausted in strength, endurance, vigor, or freshness" or "having one's patience, tolerance, or pleasure exhausted." However you define it, the indication is you are plain worn out.

That word describes how I feel; worn out.

The cries and struggles of my two youngest have drained me dryer than I imagined one could be drained. Simple tasks can feel overwhelming; sorting folded clothes for kids to put away or planning a menu (which I've done for years) is almost too much. I hate feeling like this. But, I do.

So, when a verse came to mind earlier this evening, I was very excited. It isn't a solution, per se, but rather an refreshing new perspective of a passage I've known for a very long time.

Isaiah 40:28 says God does not faint or grow weary. Instead, "He gives power to the faint, and to him who has no might, He increases strength." (Isaiah 40:29 ESV) Isaiah goes on to say, "Even youths shall faint and be weary, and young men shall fall exhausted, but those who wait upon the LORD shall renew their strength..." (Isaiah 40:31a  ESV).

It hit me; this verse isn't just (or primarily) about overcoming, like I've always thought. It is much more complex and precious. Though God doesn't grow weary, He understands that I do. Waiting on Him means my strength can be renewed. Why do I need my strength renewed if it isn't ebbing? This is written to people who are weary. I am weary. I can relate. And, God can help. What a comfort.

Streams in the Desert

Isaiah 35:4-7 is a familiar passage. I have heard it before, probably many times. But for some reason it leapt off the page at me when I read it a few days ago. In the English Standard Version, it reads "Say to those who have an anxious heart, "Be strong; fear not! Your God will come...He will come and save you...For waters break forth in the wilderness, and streams in the desert; the burning sand shall become a pool, and the thirsty ground springs of water..."


It is kind of funny; I don't usually picture streams in deserts. They are dry, dusty places, without much rain (the qualification as a "desert" is based on rainfall, or the lack of it) and long distances between pools. Oases exist, but they are not common. And God is speaking to a people who understand deserts. The picture He paints is very clear, and powerful; God will save His people, and the desert in which they find themselves will be transformed. Wow; what an amazing picture!!

For me, the even more amazing part is that I've been experiencing it lately. God has not left me alone in this desert sojourn. Many wonderful people have come alongside me, through prayer, and other more practical methods (thank you Erica and Cynde). A dear friend, who does prayer counseling, spent an afternoon with me recently, and it was incredibly powerful. Since that time, my experience has been more like walking by the streams of living water than stumbling through a dry, dusty desert.

The funny part is, my life hasn't really changed. In addition to my two special-needs kids, one of my girls recently broke her ankle, for the second time in six months ( just weeks after corrective surgery!) and has some serious dietary deficiencies (she may also need major surgery on both her ankles), I spent the night (literally) in the ER with my five year old, and my oldest daughter apparently needs surgery to correct hip dysplasia. The saga with our youngest continues; a possible immune deficiency and allergies to common foods (dairy and eggs) have further complicated an already challenging situation. Yet, God is providing me with streams in this desert!

Don't get me wrong; my days are not full of beautiful scenes fit to inspire Norman Rockwell paintings. Laundry still piles up along the streams in my desert, and I get so tired of kids crying. Dinner still has to be set on the table (which requires making it, ahead of time), toilets still need to be cleaned, and mildew still grows in my shower. But, God is caring for me in the midst of this crazy time. He is tending my heart, bringing encouragement, and helping me see that I'm not alone, even when it feels like I am. This journey is still lonely, but I realize that the trail God has set before me parallels a stream, His stream, and from it I can draw refreshment, take courage, and journey for another day.

Taking the Next Step (through the desert)

Someone asked me recently how my day was going. The question caught me unprepared; I honestly didn't know. But, the question got me thinking; how was my day going? So, I stopped to think about it. Kids were crying, but only one at a time. My son was asleep (and he doesn't sleep well at all), I'd started a load of laundry, dressed and changed two kids, put out a fire (literally), and fed my kids. Plus, my hubby was coming home that night, and I had recovered from being sick. So, at that point, it had been a good day.  Unfortunately, things went downhill at that point.

Though it isn't worth detailing, I was discouraged and downtrodden, beat down by the daily battle to raise eight children (two with developmental delays), manage a busy home, and keep my mind. The lure to just stop was very tempting, though all my attempts to submit a resignation have been futile; God doesn't work that way.

So, I got back on my feet and took one more step. Taking that step was huge; my situation didn't change, but my attitude did. And, I could again look back over the day and focus on the highlights, realizing that even with the challenges and difficulties, the highlights outweighed the low points, and I really did have a good day.

Sometimes the hardest part of parenting, or life, is to take that next step, the one that comes after falling down AGAIN! Instead of focusing on the failures and falls, choosing to focus on the successes, no matter how small they may seem. So, I'm choosing to celebrate the successes (kids got three meals, some laundry did get done, and everyone got dressed before the day was over) in spite of what seems like overwhelming failures. According to some wise person (on a card I once read), Success is "getting up once oftener than you fall down." At least for now, by that definition, I'm choosing success.

A Life Worth Celebrating

I really believe life is precious; worth celebrating. Whether big or small, young or old, neuro-typical or not, life is worth celebrating. So are milestones. You know, like birthdays and anniversaries and major accomplishments.

But, on the eve of a very significant milestone, I find myself ill-prepared, not ready to celebrate. My son turns one today. One year ago right now, I was in the hospital, working very diligently to bring this boy into the world. He didn't arrive for another twenty hours, but who is counting (besides me)?

It has been a very difficult year. Instead of being amazed at how quickly the last year has gone, we have made very slow progress; each month marked not by celebration and milestones, but by survival and sickness.

Admittedly, baby J isn't as sick as some. But I am physically, mentally, and emotionally exhausted by his needs. The energy and effort required to mount a celebration is simply not there. And that makes me sad.

Baby J will not pass this milestone uncelebrated, however. His big sisters worked on a cake, and his grandma is coming to visit in the afternoon. We won't make his favorite dinner (a long-honored family tradition), because he can't tell us what he wants. But he will eat cake and blow out candles to the tune of "Happy Birthday."

And I will have a choice; to focus on celebrating my sons first year, or on the fact that I am too tired to throw him a party. Honestly, I feel like a terrible mom for not doing a better job with birthdays in general. Instead of letting I ruin my day, however, I am going to make the most of what I've got. My son is a gift. His life is a precious treasure. And though the last year has been incredibly challenging, his is a life worth celebrating.