All Poured Out

photo ~ Liz West

Some days I feel all poured out.

I wake up tired and feeling behind, and can't shake it no matter how hard I try.

Sometimes I don't even try.

I'm not David. I've never killed a man and had to live with remorse, or been pursued by armies and had to hide in caves.

But I still connect on a deep level with this...

I am poured out like water,
And all my bones are out of joint;
My heart is like wax;
It is melted within me. (Psalm 22:14 NASB)

Can I tell you? I want to be strong. Impermeable. I want to be the mother who doesn't waver, who doesn't question herself, who is tireless on her children's behalf.

I want to be the wife who weathers life's storms by her man, strong and true and beautiful.

But I am neither of these things. I am just a girl in a woman's body, trying to be all grown up in a sometimes overwhelming world.

My husband and I have both noted that I can almost be two different people when emergencies strike.

Sometimes I am calm, with laser-like focus. When my children get hurt, I tune all of my energy into them, intent on one thing only - to calm them and make them well.

Other times I am like a vapor, air showing between my ears. I was a vapor when the wildfire hit. I couldn't think of what we needed to take to evacuate. My mind was a complete blank. I was shaking.

photo ~ lydiashiningbrightly

Our recent hospital emergency? I knew pretty quickly that it was going to be serious, and was calm and sure, but once I had delivered my husband to the emergency room, the action was out of my hands. All the problem solving belonged to someone else, and there was nothing more I could do except be a comfort to my husband as he endured the tortures of un-kinking a small intestine.

Somewhere in the three days of jumping at his every twitch and translating his sign language for the nurses, I morphed into a vapor.

When things are out of my control I just seem to leak right out of myself.

How we rejoiced when we learned that he would not need surgery! How we danced when the wretched naso-gastric tube was removed! Shouldn't that have been when life restarted and energy was aplenty?

That was when I realized I was so exhausted my bones ached.

What kind of crazy am I to have a life with so little margin that a three day emergency stay in the hospital sends me into a tailspin when I come home? I feel like I am walking around with a cloud enveloping my head, thoughts muddled, words not coming out right, slightly panicky that I am forgetting something critical. I can't make heads or tails out of what is more urgent... the laundry or the dishes?

Where I am most myself right now is snuggled up on the couch or in bed with a child and a book. That's where I would stay if I could. Holding those small limbs close, smelling the soft hair, immersed in a world of words.

I just can't tie it up all nice and tidy like a beribboned package. There's no neat ending to this post because this is real life. Real life is messy and this worn-out sinner is just muddling through, looking for glimpses of beauty, clinging to her Savior.

For You have been my help,
And in the shadow of Your wings I sing for joy.
My soul clings to You;
Your right hand upholds me. (Psalm 63:7, 8 NASB)

I'm a ruffled little chick peeking out from under the wings of her heavenly Father, trilling a tiny song... "Can't do much but just be yours today, Abba."

photo ~ Patti Brown

Kinda makes me feel snuggled up myself.

I am so grateful for grace. Peep peep.

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