My Words Exactly

I don't discuss my belief in and relationship with God very much in this space. It's a personal choice from which I rarely veer away. I mostly like to keep things light hearted and funny. I've always enjoyed being a class clown and entertaining those around me with my jolly upbeat spin on life. I find the humor and joy in most things. Even in tough things and times I can usually find the silver lining, the "up side", the part that is "glass half full". Sometimes in life if you don't see the humor and laugh about it, then you'll cry.

But...I'm worn.

Maybe I need to let cry happen. Maybe? You see, I'm a fighter...I'm strong...I can get through this and whatever else lies ahead...and I'll do everything within me to help you get through it too. And if I struggle, I'll keep that between me, myself and I. I slap on a bright smile and a contagious giggle and laugh about the crappy hand of cards we've been dealt. No one likes a whiner, a complainer a naysayer, and I don't want to burden anyone else with my struggles. Crap storms happen in life...to everybody, and that's just the way it is. My armor against the world is fastened tightly and securely, and very, very few ever get through to see my tattered beat-up underpinnings.

I'm worn.

For the last three years, I've been in a revolving door of life heaping more and more on top of me. Every time I think I've got a handle on it life sucker punches us again. And somewhere in all of this pre-war, war,  war injury, post-war, unemployment and subsequent salary slashing with uncertainty around every single corner I've lost my way...I've lost my joy...I've lost my will to fight...I've lost sight of God. I can't see Him anymore. I'm not sure where He is in all of this...and I'm "worn". Such a simple word but it encompasses all that I am and all that I feel right now.

I'm worn.

For three of my boys today, I ran to and from their designated venues 6 times. And in those 6 trips in my overly crowded van, I heard the song "Worn" by Tenth Avenue North three different times. Three full times on three different trips. I've never heard a song that spoke to me- or spoke from me- in such an honestly disturbing way. That song is directly from my tattered soul crying out to Jesus. I have no idea how five total strangers could so completely understand and relay thoughts, feelings and emotions that even I can't succinctly vocalize or explain.

I'm worn.

I sit here tonight in the quiet of my over-stuffed house with all 6 boys safely tucked into bed and listen to it over and over and over again with tears staining my mascara-ed lashes and trickling softly down my powdered cheeks. And even in the loneliness of my living room, I'm ashamed of my tears...because I should be stronger, tougher, better at handling adversity and change and challenges. I'm lost...and I can't seem to find the lighted path that leads me home. Where is my soft place to land? Where is our promise that things are actually going to work out for our family? Where is our God? I'm too beat down to cry out...I'm tired of fighting...and my soul yearns for rest.

I'm worn.