[this post is sort of a part two of what I’m processing about the Kavanaugh hearings. Read part one here.]
I have an emotional hang over.
What a week.
I lay in bed last night, unable to watch TV or read because even escaping felt like too hard. My soul was weary. Deeply tired. I felt emotionally beat-up by the week.
[**I wrote these thoughts last night, and they’re not all the things I think, they’re just some of the things I’m feeling** I know this is nuanced. I know it’s complicated. I’m not trying to present an articulate argument one way or the other. I’m just trying to explain why some women might be exhausted tonight.]
What a day. Am I right?
I sat in a coffee shop today, headphones plugged into my phone, restlessly shifting my weight, occasionally head in hands, until the woman I was with gently encouraged me to take a break from the Kavanaugh hearing.
In an old house I used to live in, there were weeds that nestled right up to the walls. They wrapped around the house, seemingly seeking to hold it, when really they sought to strangle it. I have always thought of my failure this way, the darkness in me. Snuggled right up next to who I am, but unable to infect it.
There is no new information this morning.
It’s not news to me that if Jesus is truly the key to rest and life and joy, then I have access to rest and joy and life all the time. Nothing has to change about my life for me to be present and find life and rest and all that I’m searching for. It doesn’t lie on the other side of a circumstance, it lies in Jesus, who is mine now.
What a strange feeling it is, to sit in a place you love and know that all of your life makes sense on paper, but to feel so strangely out of place or out of sorts, adrift and at sea. This feeling can mean a few things for me. It can mean I have something I need to grieve, something I haven’t processed, or a dream that I am gripping a little too tight that’s causing me to subconsciously withdrawal from Jesus.
But sometimes it’s just that I miss my friend, Jesus. I wish He was here with me. I wish I didn’t let stupid things crowd Him out.