I just realized I feel hollow inside today. I’ve been nursing a mild depression this summer: I’m mourning the loss of a friend’s child, I’m mourning the loss of my dream that things would always be easy for my children. I felt aimless this summer—feeling like the kids are in a new place, not wanting to strike out on adventures, and I was worn out too. I gave them too much time in front of the tv. But now they’re back in school, and when I slow down, I feel that aimlessness differently: what am I doing with this writing, what should my day look like; I desperately want to clean out my house but feel guilty I’m not eating lunch at the school or posting on the blog—I carry guilt around like a pet.
I haven’t understood God this summer, so he’s felt distant although I know he’s not. I’ve wondered where he is in all this, wondered if he still hears and speaks, wondered if I can hear him. I’m clinging to my belief in his promise that his goodness and mercy follow me, and each of us, even though it’s really hard to see how he’s being good and giving mercy right now. Some days I read his word and it doesn’t compute. Or it does, and I forget it almost instantly.
But today, I’m here, confessing these things and wanting to hear.
Peace. Be still and know that I am God.
I’m forgetful, but that’s not new to God. His people have always forgotten his faithfulness to them. He tells them to build reminders because he knows they forget.
So here goes. Truth monument:
He’s the God who sees me and loves me still.
He delights in me.
He sent his son to die for me.
He is good.
He does hear me.
He wants to be known by me.
He knows me and all my thoughts before they happen.
And he loves me still.
My redeemer is faithful and true.
He is my good shepherd, leading me gently even when I can’t see or feel him.
He’s bigger than my feelings and anything thrown my way.
He is God, he is my God, I am his child.
He is good, and every morning his mercies are new.
He is in my midst, always, because he wants to be.
His steadfast love endures forever.
I was looking for a picture to post with this, and I came across a video of our daughter at age 2, singing the Doxology, which Miss Jo and Miss Patty taught her at Mother’s Day Out. And another reminder came: Even when it feels foreign, give thanks. And if I keep on thanking God for his past goodness—offer a sacrifice of thanksgiving—I’ll begin to see his goodness in today too.
Through the praise of children and infants
you have established a stronghold against your enemies,
to silence the foe and the avenger. -Psalm 8:2