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I haven’t written in a couple weeks. Well, that’s not true. I have written, but not for this space. I have written about grief and pain. I have written in an attempt to communicate the words I could not speak. I have written to-do lists and plans and goals. I have written checks for the bills that never seem to stop coming. I have written business plans and marketing proposals that I’m not sure will ever go anywhere. So writing is happening, just a different kind. The one that drains me more far than it fills me up.

My devotional has been set on the back burner and my book, yea, it feels a bit like that one is in the deep freeze. You know that frozen okra in the bottom left corner of Aunt Ida’s chest freezer that has been there since at least Reagan was in office. That is my book.

If the beginnings of 2020 were my season of shame then this year is the season of shuffle. I feel like I have 400 plates to spin, but they are all precious china that can never be replaced if damaged. And like many “beloved” family heirlooms, I don’t even like some of these plates. In fact, I hate them. But being the one to drop them would be too much to bear. And yet each day, it feels as if a new plate enters my act. Another heinous hand-me down from some unseen force. I feel myself falling off balance and I know we are getting close to the point where one or more plates must hit the ground or I force losing them all. That knowledge terrifies me.

My soul is tired. My brain is mush. My heart is heavy. It is a weird place to be. To look around and be grateful for the life I have and yet still feel a deep sadness. To feel like we are working, plugging along, pounding pavement at a million miles an hour only to look up at the end of the day and be standing 5 feet BEHIND where we started that morning. It is exhausting.

Tait and I are both doers, and so standing still feels like the greatest waste of time on the planet. This season is pushing us to count on God’s provision and power in our life, and I wish I could tell you we are KILLING IT. I wish I could tell you we wake up each morning surrounded by peace and filled with a knowledge of exactly what step to take next. I wish I could tell you any of that, but I would be lying through my teeth and I promised to never do that in this space.

There is still laughter and love and gratitude, but Lord knows it is interspersed with tears and anger and fear. And I have nothing else to say today, no encouragement that it will all work out perfectly and tie itself up in a pretty little bow. No, the only thing I have to say today friends is that it is ok. You aren’t alone in both trusting God and being nervous about what that means for your life. You can sit back here in the sinner section with me, confident in our status as the lost and broken, and full of the knowledge that none of that means that Jesus will leave us behind. He still loves us and He is still good. We will be ok, but if you aren’t ok today, that is ok, too.