We talk a lot about encouragement and we should.
Because coming alongside and speaking courage to a heart that wants to give up and give in is one of the most beautiful things in the world.
It’s a big part of why I write-my daily prayer is that the words I send into space land just where God wants them to and that somewhere, somehow a heart is made stronger.
But life is full of discouragement.
Sometimes it’s a phone call that brings news of a “no” when you were longing for “yes”.
Sometimes it’s finding out that there is more month than money.
Sometimes it’s a friend that doesn’t remember your birthday or anniversary or some other important date and you’re left with no one to celebrate that milestone.
Sometimes it’s the scale registering PLUS two pounds when you’ve been so, so careful to eat well and exercise all week long.
And sometimes it’s more serious than that-a diagnosis, a pink slip (do they do that anymore?), an argument with your child or spouse or parent.
One of the things I’m learning in this Valley is that I am not immune to the myriad afflictions of life on Planet Earth. I don’t get a pass just because I buried a child. I have to trudge through the muck and mire of the everyday just like anyone else.
And while my heart is much better at sorting the truly important from the barely mentionable, there are still many, many days when I feel sad and discouraged and it has nothing to do with Dominic’s not being here.
This week I’ve battled increased and uncontrollable pain due to my RA. I don’t know any other way to describe it except to say that if it keeps me from going outside and doing things, it’s at least an 8/10 on that stupid scale they use at the doctor’s office.
Some routine blood work showed a couple areas we need to watch. Yippee! More doctors’ appointments and more needle sticks.
I’m resigned to the fact that I cannot change any of this. I’m not morose or without hope, but I will admit my heart is faltering just a bit.
I preach truth to myself. I know that in the end all will be made new and right and I won’t even care about the measly 70 or 80 years I spent down here.
But sometimes I’m just plain tired.
I’m tired of fighting against the barrage of everyday joy suckers.
I confess. I’m discouraged. ❤