Battling at Christmas

Merry Christmas eve eve eve eve! The past couple weeks have been a struggle filled primarily with defeat. December isn't just difficult because of Christmas, it's also the month of Mom and Dad's anniversary of  18 years and Dad's 41st birthday. It's tough. I go through some days wondering why I feel so blah, but it's mostly the season. 

And the fact that I quit fighting to live. I quit reading the Bible because I had neither the time nor the desire. It was empty, so what was the point? Church was the same. I really wanted to be feel joy and growth, but I found it hard to even listen. Most nights I would go to bed with tears blurring my sight because I was just so tired, sorrowful, and empty. I didn't realize it, but I was wallowing. "Woe is me," and all that. My excuse was that God wanted me to dwell in Him, so all I had to do was lay there and stay alive. That is a lie. God never ever wants us to be lazy or feel sorry for ourselves; because someone else always has it worse. So I told Mom about my pitiful feelings which felt very real. Praise the Lord she didn't coddle me or try and sympathize. She rebuked me Biblically, "Take captive every thought." I couldn't let those lies of sorrow and selfishness swallow me. She prayed and my thoughts raced. That night as I got in bed, I realized that I do need to dwell in Christ always, but never wallow. Life is a battle. It's painful and difficult and horrible at times. But the bloodiest of battles is so much better than the emptiness of just sitting there and letting life roll over you. I'm going to lean hard on my Savior and press on. I'm going to fight with every ounce of my strength those empty days. I'm going to read God's Word when it's the last thing I want to do. Why? Because I don't just want to survive. I want to really live. Because life is too short to do anything else. 

At this point, I shall step off my soapbox and share what this Christmas looks like for us. In memory of Dad, we covered our oak tree with tacky colored/ blinking lights. After the Iron Bowl, so many friends showed up to help out. It looks amazing. My siblings and I have finished school for the year and are ecstatic. We get to travel and visit family, my favorite part about Christmas. Dad is gone, but the memories, laughter, and traditions live on. I absolutely love seeing my many cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. You don't realize how big your family is until they're all in one room opening gifts. And this Christmas, we celebrate not only with our direct family, but with our "extended" family. Our friends have become so precious to us. Because they don't have to be there for us or celebrate with us or check on us, but they do. It's a crazy, no sense, godly love. 

This Christmas will be filled with sweet memories and tears, but even more so laughter and love.

The House on the Sand Went SMASH

I haven't blogged in a while, and it's not because I have nothing to write about. It's the opposite actually. I've been writing more than usual, just in my journal. Because I get so confused and overwhelmed with emotions and thoughts, that I may say something I regret.
I thought my life was on it's way back to a new "normal." A nice schedule I could stick to. As long as the plot didn't change too drastically, I would be just peachy. But, unfortunately for my tidy outline, I'm learning what "Not my will but yours be done" really means.
I was thrown a curveball. I was blindsided. My "perfect" world was once again upset. I looked at the problem saying "What? Now? Of all times! I'm just now getting back on my feet!" I looked at God and said "Really? REALLY!?" Like they say, when it rains, it pours.
Once my immediate anger, disbelief, and pain subsided some, I saw what the real problem was. Me.
Before Dad died, I didn't know it, but he was my rock. He was unshakable. He would always be there for me. And then I found out that my rock had been shattered. So, I laid my foundation elsewhere and I didn't even know it until an "earthquake" hit. When my new rock was shaken, I got upset again. I had placed my faith so strongly in something temporary. I had high expectations of my new world. And not surprisingly, it didn't meet them. Why? I expected unmoving, never-ending perfection. And no one can meet those expectations except my God. My dwelling place. My rock.
I'm reminded of the Bible story I have heard ever since I was a small child. I even lead the kids choir in a song about this story. It goes like this:
The wise man built his house upon a rock, the wise man built his house upon a rock, the wise man built his house upon a rock and the rains came tumbling down. The rains came down and the floods came up. The rains came down and the floods came up. The rains came down and the floods came up, and the house on the rock stood firm.
It goes on to talk about the foolish man who built his house upon the sand. And then the kid's favorite part: The house on the sand went SMASH!
The foundations I had attempted to lay my complete trust, hope, and future upon fell apart because they were made of sand. So when my house fell apart, I kicked and screamed at God because He had failed me! But, no. He hadn't failed me, I had built my foundations wrong. God is the only one who will NEVER fail me. He will ALWAYS be there for me. The Bible reminds me over and over (Psalm 91 & Proverbs 3:5-6) that God is enough. He is all I need. Yet, time and time again I seek help elsewhere.
I have to remind myself daily: God is enough. God is enough. God is enough.