A New Kind of Tired

However tired I may be with the challenges, with the struggles, and with the uncertainty of the moment, I am tired of me more.

Our hardships did not start on March 21st when we checked in, nor did they start in December 21ˢᵗ, 2023, when we walked out of our house for the last time. They started long before then.

2023, alone, was a year for the record books. That year we spent a combined total over 30 days with no power between 3 separate instances, the shortest being 5 days, and the longest 18 days. Most of that year, there was little to no food, no necessities for weeks and a million other things most people never knew about. When I made the decision to get baptized that year, not a soul would have imagined what it would take to make it to baptism Sunday, myself included. We had no power, no car insurance, no gas. I went to bed that Saturday night defeated that I would not get baptized the next morning, yet joy came in the morning when I woke up to the news that we would make it after all, we had the means to get there and back, missing it was not going to turn my power back on, nor was it going to help anything else. Even as I write this I wonder if Michael ever fully understood what it meant to me then that we made it to the lake for the baptism. I don’t know that I ever thanked him for it, or any­thing else for that matter.

2 annual baptism Sundays have gone by since the one I got baptist at, and much to my disappointment, we’ve not made it to either of them, but I guess Jesus already knew that which is why He ensured I made it.

You’d think that after losing the life we worked hard for over 10 yrs to build, living in a motel would be a walk in the park, and truthfully, most days it is. I have a safe roof, with nice and helpful staff and incredible neighbors whom I am convinced God brought here just for us. This is a cushy way to be homeless, if I am honest, yet in keeping with truth and transparency, most days all I see is what a money hole it is.

When we first checked in, we were paying by the day because we didn’t have the means to pay weekly much less monthly, and frankly we never imagined we would be here this long. More than once I told The Lord that if we could pay by the week, it would be less stressful, and I would be fine.

That was a lie.

I did not know it at the time, of course, but it was.
By the time we gathered enough to pay weekly, I was upset because I wanted to use that money to move out. 6 months here and some days, I still struggle to believe no one ever called about a single rental application I put in for us. Not one.

Still, my plans being derailed is no reason to allow myself to become consumed, almost to the point of obsession, with the payment. I know this, better than I would like to admit yet I would be lying if I didn’t say that despite countless conversations with The Lord, for month now my every waking thought has been about “Friday” because that’s when the room comes due.

Now, you’re likely wondering what any of this has to do with my being tired of myself, and it is this:

Over the last 2 years alone, I have lost vehicles, home, children and on top of all of that, God asked me to resign my job. Yet despite all of that, or maybe because of it, I have also experienced God’s patience, goodness, faithfulness, correction and provisions like never before.

God is not some distant deity that is cold and uncaring, on the contrary, He is far from it. God is here. Present. We have whole conversations some days, yet the minute the bank says $0 or it looks as though a bill won’t get paid, on time or at all, I begin to unravel.

I get angry, because it seems to be my one emotion.

Anger.

It fuels me. It drives me, and try as I may, I can’t seem to break up with anger.
I keep allowing what I see, or rather what I don’t, to take away from what God already told me long ago. I keep saying things like:

“that money could be better spent…” or ” God could do things better…”

And God keeps asking me:
“Better by whose standard?”

And that alone is the million dollar question, isnt it? By whose standard am I trying to live, His or mine?

In this place, I have met different kinds of people, different stories, colors, backgrounds, yet in some ways we are more of a biblical Church than the Church 50 Feet away from my door. Here I have learned, a lot, about who God is and how He functions, yes, but also about the true status of my heart.

My heart is a problem.

In this place, I’ve had strangers come to my door, provisions in hand, in a way I had never experienced before. From food, to clothes and shoes and every­thing in between. In this place God has somehow become more real, more present, more faithful…

Yet some days, all I can see, all I choose to focus on really, on what goes “wrong” be that the jobs that fall through, the interviews that get postponed, or the opportunities that did not go our way.

Now, I know better than this. I know better than to doubt, I know better than to push for control or be impatient for what comes next, I really do, and I make no excuses for it, all I can say is bad habits truly do die hard, and I was raised to be money focused not Jesus focused, and therein lies the problem, but that is a conversation for another day.

There is an old John Wooden quote I love that says:

“There is a choice you have to make in everything you do, so keep in mind that in the end, the choice you make, makes you.”

I have always believed in the importance of wise choices, yet when it matters most, I’m letting my emotions get the best of me, and not making all the wisest choices because I can’t stand to watch Michael work, attempt to run a business, help half the neighborhood and yet always we have just enough for the room.
Some days I wonder, if we wouldn’t be better off in the truck, we would definitely free up hundreds of dollars a week that way, but I cannot do that to my kid. His short 5 years have had enough loss, enough hardships, drama and so much more, that to willingly give up the room to save the money would not only be reckless, it would be disobedience, because God has not released us from here.

He has, however, told me to wait on Him, to trust Him, to Focus on what He called me to do and leave the room to Him and Michael, yet I struggle to let go of control despite knowing that I don’t really have any. I’m not solving any problems, if anything, I have created more of them, yet I have allowed my mind to be consumed by this one “problem” that isn’t really a problem at all.

My flesh and my heart are in conflict.

I want to get off the emotional rollercoaster, yet I can’t seem to find my way off.
So yeah, I am tired of me, because I know what God said, and I know who He is and that alone should be enough, and most days it is because God is always more than enough, but other days…

I allow the lies satan whispers to make me question what know to be true, and I should never, ever, allow that. Ever.

Say a prayer for Michael, y ‘all. The poor man has a lot to juggle, and then he also has me to deal with. God has given me a patient and gentle man who deserves all of the prayers he can get, because I don’t know how he is not tired of my moods yet, when I am tired of myself.

“And now, O Lord God, I am your servant; do as you have promised concerning me and my family. Confirm it as a promise that will last forever.”
2 Samuel 7:25 NLT