I’m so tired. Not tired like I need an extra-large cup of coffee, an afternoon of lazy napping, or a full night’s sleep. My soul is tired, and I haven’t found a form of caffeine to combat that.
I’m tired of looking for the good. I know . . . I know. There is always something to be thankful for. And I am thankful for so many things. But not this. I’m not thankful our country has shut down. I’m not thankful people are dying. I’m not thankful for the nastiness and division. I’m not thankful to have already spent a summer’s worth of time in my home with my kids while staring down the barrel of six more weeks.
I know the good is there, but I am tired of having to dig into my depths to find it.
I’m tired of saying no. No, we can’t see friends. No, I won’t be going to my favorite annual retreat that refreshes my spirit. No, we can’t go to the park. No, you can’t run into the store with me. No, the store doesn’t have that right now. Lately, no is the most used word in my vocabulary.
I’m no stranger to no, actually, we’re fairly well-acquainted. I’ve said no because of budget, time, busy schedules, or even because I’m just a “fun-sucker” according to my kids. But this is a different kind of no. We’ve never been an adventurous bunch, but now it’s not a personal choice, we simply don’t have the option of saying yes.
I am tired of constantly being needed—literally, 24/7. School, friends, activities, grandparents—the people, places, and things that used to provide a break, even if a short one, from the constant needs—are no longer options. I’m now trapped in a constant barrage of needs. Mom, I need a snack. Mom, I need help. Mom, I need you to play with me. Mom, I need clean socks. Mom, I need him to leave me alone. Mom, I’m a teething baby and I need you to comfort me at 4 a.m.
You know what I need? A break from being needed.
Some days I look at my step count, well below my daily goal, and wonder how on earth I can be so tired. Being needed is physically and mentally exhausting, and I’m tired of it.
I’m tired of pretending. The friendly text pops up, “How are you guys doing?” My return is likely something along the lines of surviving, all right, hanging in there, one day at a time. But what I really want to say is I hate this. I don’t want to do it anymore. But that wouldn’t be the right response.
Instead, the expectation is to pretend all of this is fine. I’m fine.
But the truth is I’m not.
I cry more than I used to, I snap at my kids, I’m annoyed by my husband. And I’m angry, sometimes for no particular reason. But I don’t really tell anyone about this—that would, after all, defeat the purpose of pretending. Instead, I put on my brave, happy, half-glass-full face and move on with life. Which is, in itself, ironic because life doesn’t really move right now.
I’m tired of searching for God. This one’s hard to admit. I’m normally the one offering encouragement, shining light into the darkness. But if I’m honest (remember, I’m tired of pretending), I am struggling to see Him. I know He’s working all things for my good and His glory. I know He has promised never to forsake us. I know He’s present in the day of trouble when He’s called upon.
But, it feels like there is a heavy fog clouding my vision. I am peering into it wondering, Is that you, God?
I can vaguely see His figure, but I long for the blurry lines to become clear, revealing not only an outline of Him but His face. His radiant, beautiful, reassuring face.
Yes, I know I need to be in the Word and praying—I am. And I will continue. I trust He is there, and I believe I’ll see Him again. My faith remains as does His presence even when I struggle to see it.
As has been said time and time again over these last three months, this too will pass. My tired soul will find rest again. And yours will, too.