AJ and a LATTE

I’ve hit my threshold. I’m tired and I’m going through the motions, but I feel like a shell.  

My joy, my refuge, my outlet for as long as I can remember has been the written word. I love to write. I cannot think of a time that my ability to pen the written word has escaped me until the past three months. To say they have been a dumpster fire would not even scratch the surface! The injustice of that little spark to the magnitude of what has transpired is indescribable.

My dad has always been my person. He got sick in November and just got weaker and weaker.  He missed Thanksgiving, had to take a leave of absence from work and missed Christmas.  Our true adventures began the day after Christmas when he was admitted into the hospital. We almost lost him.  I have not felt so close to God as when I was prostrate at His feet begging for the life of my father.  God heard my cry. But the road has been long. We’re still not home but getting closer every day. At the same time as my dad’s health was declining, my brother had to have an eyeball sized tumor (benign!!!!) removed from his left orbital lobe. My mom, brother, husband and son all got very sick (stomach, flu, you name it!).  I got a ticket, had a wreck, took 3 weeks off of work, fought arrogance in nurses, had to advocate for my dad, move him to rehab, battle insurance, move to skilled nursing, navigate a complete breakdown of communication, and am now in the process of moving him back to rehab on Friday from the skilled nursing facility.  Amidst this with my father, life went on so I have prepped my flutes for solo and ensemble contest and had to return to my everyday life teaching my littles. Each night after work I go to my dad’s place and get his things ready so he can be relatively independent in getting ready in the morning.

Exhausted. And for the first time in my life, the words just wouldn’t come. I have fallen prey to the Enemy as he has reveled in lavishing more and more stress on my shoulders. He has played with my anxiety and tinkered with my emotions.  I have tried to write, but my thoughts were a jumble.  This week, I hit my threshold.  I can’t bear more. Something has to give. God has been faithful and has been generous in the signs of His presence. He has held me up when I’ve been too weak to stand. Now I cry out with a fatigue that invades my bones. I call to Him with an emptiness that only comes from pouring out from an empty vessel.  I know He will provide rest and fulfillment.  But in the meantime, I exist. I move from one realm to the next, completing my tasks but knowing I want to do more.

That time will come. God is faithful. My daddy is improving. Life’s other stressors are resolving. He will bring me rest. Until then I wait for Him. I keep on keepin’ on. I continue to cry out knowing He hears me. 

And now, I write. I write for myself but I acknowledge that we all have been in that place. I write knowing that in the night there are silent tears falling due to overwhelm and I understand. I write feeling the pressures of life but knowing there is more. I write as a way to call out to God and ask for refuge. For now, I write.