We Don't Talk Enough

Psalm 32:3-5, "When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long.  For day and night your hand was heavy on me; my strength was sapped as in the heat of summer.   Then I acknowledged my sin to you and did not cover up my iniquity.  I said, 'I will confess my transgressions to the Lord.'  And you forgave the guilt of my sin" (NIV).

Sometimes life is ridiculously confusing.

I just wrote about talking too much.  And here I am reading about the importance of breaking the silence.  Maybe it's not so much that we speak excessively.  Maybe it's that we don't say the right things...

I have never been very good at adapting to rising temperatures.  Sure, I whine and complain about the feet upon feet of Michigan snowfall during the winter, but let's be real - it's mostly because I hate shoes.  In my ideal world, it would be about 65 degrees every single day, but the truth is, I will always take a good blizzard over sweltering, oppressive heat.  Always. 

And it's been hot lately.

When I read that line, "My strength was sapped as in the heat of summer," it resonated. 

I am exhausted.

But this has caused me to wonder, am I feeling this way because the hand of the Lord is heavy on me?  I wouldn't have phrased it this way until this morning.  To be fair, I think my life, right now, could be described as an extenuating circumstance.  Quite seriously.  The whole thing.  I do, indeed, thrive in fast paced, multitasking, arduous conditions that are marked by planning and deadlines and maybe an adrenaline spike here and there.  It's just who I am. 

But there was this moment, a few days ago, when I realized that I need to be in Ohio next Friday... and Illinois next Saturday... and Indiana next Sunday.  In my original plan, I was then going to drive across the country to the Pacific Ocean only to return to Michigan just in time to drop off my two youngest children with Grandma and Grandpa before turning around and driving to Oklahoma for a week, followed by 10 days off, a conference, a week of vocational training, family camp, a second week of training, 12 days off, a weekend trip with the extended family, and the start of my final term for this degree.

I cancelled the road trip west, but the truth is, friends; I'm still trying to make it work, in my head.  As I read over the preceding paragraph, I honestly thought to myself, "There are 22 days on which I have nothing scheduled.  Maybe I can make this happen, after all."

And I think I could, if I didn't also hope to earn As in my two summer classes (which is seriously questionable at this point) and learn German... and French... and maybe Greek or Hebrew... and write a 20 page research paper for the purposes of applying for a doctoral program... and purchase and begin renovations on the building we've been looking at for Via Illuminate.

What am I not saying? 

Apparently way too much, because this is the summer schedule of someone who is hiding... ignoring... chasing... something.

I'd like to say I've worn myself thin, but I think I'm actually wearing myself out.

I know exactly what lies at the root of this, for me.

I am struggling... quite deeply... again... with a "not good enough" complex.  You have no idea how much I wish I could just cut the crap and kick it forever.  I honestly have no idea what that's going to take.

Confession?  Hey, God, is that your hand?  Because this heat?  I'm sapped...

 
L.