Tired

The last months have been busy.  I can honestly say that we have not taken much time to stop and smell the flowers.  Of course I have the blackest of thumbs (plants should only be watered twice a year-- right?), and my flower beds look like a mini-wilderness. Plus, Spring came and went without anyone taking the time to plant any flowers, so I have no flowers to smell anyway!

I'm tired.  Tired of deadlines, tired of computers, tired of feeling like I am never doing enough.  I'm tired of writing dreary Lost Boys posts.  I'm tired of trying to make hard decisions, tired when I look ahead and see Aaron's surgery looming next week, tired of the reality that we have run hard all summer without getting anywhere.  I'm tired of trying to keep all of my ducks in a row.  Tired of keeping so many plates spinning on the ends of so many sticks.

I want to get off of this train.

I want to go back to a time in our lives when we took the weekends and went tubing down the river.  I want to spend a summer sitting on the edge of a pool watching my kids laugh and play in the water.  I want to barbecue hamburgers on the grill and have impromptu picnics on our front porch.  I want to slow down and enjoy life before my two oldest aren't around to enjoy it with.  I want to give Aaron what they had when they were little.  I want to read more and play more and laugh a whole lot more.

We're taking a break.

We are going to the beach for a few days this week.  Nothing fancy, because we are living on a frayed shoestring budget right now. It's just a room next to the boardwalk at Virginia Beach.  We are going to sit and watch Aaron discover the ocean and watch the older boys play in the water. 

Next weekend we will celebrate Aaron's 7th birthday.  He's getting a real party in a park.  Balloons, cake and presents.  What more could a boy want?  I have mixed feelings about his birthday.  I don't want him growing up. He's not ready.  He needs more time to be little. 


On the next day, we will take Aaron up to Philly for elbow surgery on his right elbow.  I can't begin to express how that makes me feel.  He thinks that the Doctor is going to fix his arms.  He thinks that after the Doctor helps him, his arms and hands and fingers will work like Ben and Elijah's.  Poor kid's convinced that he will be able to do all of the things that they can do. How we all wish that were true.

How can we explain to him that this is only the first of many surgeries?  How can we explain to him that his arms may never work like Ben and Elijah's?  How? 

And in the midst of everything, Rob's uncle is dying.  Rob's only uncle. His mother's only sibling.  She just lost her husband three months ago, and now she is losing her brother.  He's a sweet, precious old Christian man. Our tears flow just considering losing him.  He is precious to us.

As I said, I'm tired.  We're tired.

God knows we are tired.  But just when we feel like throwing in the towel, just when we get to the point where we wonder if we can put another foot in front of another, just when we think that we are going to go under... just when we think... We are sustained once again by the Giver of Life - in small ways and big.... in a sermon or an e-mail or a blog post or through Scripture or a kind word from a friend.  A phone call, a hug.  Just when....

I am grateful that I serve a God who understands me in my weakness and sin.  A God who reaches down in my weariness and struggle and who provides me just what I need when I need it.  I am weak and frail, and I fail so often.  He is faithful and strong!  I'm grateful that I serve a God who comforts us in sorrow and sustains us in grief.  A living, loving, merciful God who crossed the Great Sin Divide to be in a relationship with us.

Hebrews 4: 14-16:

Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has ascended into heaven, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to empathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are—yet he did not sin. Let us then approach God’s throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in our time of need.

It has been a hard summer.  A crazy, overwhelming, mixed-up summer.   A summer that began with loss and may end with loss.  A summer that has left us groaning for relief.  But woven through the harshness of the days, God has carried us.  He has reminded us that we are not alone.  He has sustained us and will continue to sustain as we live out our days safe in His grasp.  Therein lies our hope.  Our peace.  Our joy.  We are not alone.