The worst part is I couldn’t think of a good reason for my funk, couldn’t pinpoint one moment to blame for the gray, and I couldn’t figure my way out of it.
I went to the gym against my better judgment. (My better judgment when I’m in a mood says stay home and worry and eat food, just so you know.) But John casually mentioned maybe a workout would be good for me.
So I went and cried a little in child’s pose before my power yoga class started, felt dumb for crying for a reason I couldn’t name, and hoped for a little hope by the time I left.
This was me, all of last week. I woke up, and gave up, every day last week.
This weekend I determined that it was time to get over myself. But, those of you who know me, know this can be the high calling because I have a flair for the dramatic at times. So with God’s gracious help, this Monday I got up and listened to the advice of my friend Martha who says whatever you do, never, I mean never, skip the Monday workout. And getting up and working out requires more than self-discipline and obedience. It requires hope, right?
And hope is the antidote for hormones. Yeah, my hubby keeps telling me that I may be entering peri-menopause. I think that can happen even to a young, young 45 year old. I know, TMI. But this is man code for, “Hey girl. You are wigging out more than the usual…”
Later, on the regular Monday drive to my darling girl’s ballet class, the sun blazed gold on the highway like a street in heaven. Beautiful and stunning. On the other hand, like seriously, that kind of glare is dangerous, blinding‘¦so bright you can’t see the lines! As I drove, I listened to Christian radio, where every song made me cry. To be fair, the glare contributed to the tears a bit.
God was whispering to my heart that since He has purpose, I have purpose, because I am made in His image (Genesis 1:27). And that made me cry too ‘“ that He would take time to call me out of darkness and into His Marvelous Light (1 Peter 2:9). Me, with all my comfort and whining, my despair over being too small, my silly self-conscious sadness.
Why in the world hasn’t He just given up on me? Me, so easily discouraged? Some days it doesn’t take much for me to turn tail and run. Bury my head and want to cry. Silly me.
The only answer I can see is that He is even more wonderful than we could ever know and He loves with that everlasting love that outshines, out lasts, out loves ungrateful, stingy, bitter hearts. Amazing. Crying now too, that I think of it again. Dang, maybe my hubby is right?
Today I am sharing this post at HolleyGerth.com.