Here // There // Waiting
Here I am:
The Art of Being Not Quite "There" Yet
I keep on waiting to really write what I am thinking and feeling because I like to have a full picture. I like to wait until the end of the story to tell my tale, but I am the middle of something that I will not be out of for a while. Even when I am out of the thick of it, I will not be "there".
For a long time, I was afraid to talk about my failings. I was afraid to tell people that I was not there yet, but then I realized I am here and I am grateful for being in the position I am in. As difficult as being "here" is when it feels like everyone else has already gotten there, I know that my journey is part of who I am and I know I can never be anywhere, but here. Living in the present is better than wishing to be back there where I was or over there where I am going, where I want to go.
So where is here?
Today, here is at the doctor's office where I have to convince myself and the doctor that I am having a healthy pregnancy because I am so small. Here is sitting in a messy playroom while my year and a half old cuddles closely begging for another book, then flipping speedily through the pages before I can read it. Here is waiting with bated breath for a phone or an email from any of the companies I have sent my application to in the hopes that perhaps we can afford the diapers we are almost out of and the food I am craving instead of what is in the fridge. Here is patiently editing photographs for the first time in almost half a decade to start a business that I am not really convinced I am qualified to start. Here is prayerfully awaiting a direction. Here is waiting.
Waiting.
Mostly just waiting to be there.
There.
There is in our own place. There is where I do not have to worry about if we can afford diapers or meat or fresh fruit. There is where my husband and I are communicating clearly instead of pulling ourselves independently up by our bootstraps. There is not here in Houston. There is not being successful so much as not drowning. There is more than scraping by. There is not sitting by and watching as life and opportunities fly quickly away. There is not needing more than we have. There is not having to ask my parents to pay for the car insurance on the car that they are also making payments on. There is not living in the home of my in-laws while they foot the bill for our basic needs. There is having one of the parents of our kids employed. There is not wondering when the next shoe will drop. There is peace.
Peace.
I may not be there yet. I cannot tell you when I will be there. Every time I get to a point where I start to see it, we sink further down into this ever growing pit. I am tired. I am tired of feeling helpless and hopeless. I am tired of being entirely unsure of myself and the decisions that we are making. I am exhausted because we keep on trudging through the mud, but I think we're sinking further in and not covering any distance. I am exhausted.
Yet, he has provided.
Constantly. In my here. In my now. He provides. We have not run out of food or diapers. Consistently, as my husband and I exchanged worried glances, He provides. When we don't know where the money to pay the bills will come from, He provides. When we don't know how we will afford the next box of diapers, He provides. When we don't know, he provides. Through my here, I desire peace and am filled with joy at the magnificence of God. I am filled with joy at the story that God is writing for us to share. In my here, I am awed at the way that God fills us not just where we need, but more than we need. I am awed at the way that He works. In my here, I feel gratitude. I am thankful for His mercy and grace. I am grateful for His provision. I am grateful for the plan that He is weaving. I am grateful for the path we are on. I am grateful because we get to be a part of His story.
Thank you, Lord, for meeting me in my here because here is the only place I can be.
Thank you.
Today, here is at the doctor's office where I have to convince myself and the doctor that I am having a healthy pregnancy because I am so small. Here is sitting in a messy playroom while my year and a half old cuddles closely begging for another book, then flipping speedily through the pages before I can read it. Here is waiting with bated breath for a phone or an email from any of the companies I have sent my application to in the hopes that perhaps we can afford the diapers we are almost out of and the food I am craving instead of what is in the fridge. Here is patiently editing photographs for the first time in almost half a decade to start a business that I am not really convinced I am qualified to start. Here is prayerfully awaiting a direction. Here is waiting.
Waiting.
Mostly just waiting to be there.
There.
There is in our own place. There is where I do not have to worry about if we can afford diapers or meat or fresh fruit. There is where my husband and I are communicating clearly instead of pulling ourselves independently up by our bootstraps. There is not here in Houston. There is not being successful so much as not drowning. There is more than scraping by. There is not sitting by and watching as life and opportunities fly quickly away. There is not needing more than we have. There is not having to ask my parents to pay for the car insurance on the car that they are also making payments on. There is not living in the home of my in-laws while they foot the bill for our basic needs. There is having one of the parents of our kids employed. There is not wondering when the next shoe will drop. There is peace.
Peace.
I may not be there yet. I cannot tell you when I will be there. Every time I get to a point where I start to see it, we sink further down into this ever growing pit. I am tired. I am tired of feeling helpless and hopeless. I am tired of being entirely unsure of myself and the decisions that we are making. I am exhausted because we keep on trudging through the mud, but I think we're sinking further in and not covering any distance. I am exhausted.
Yet, he has provided.
Constantly. In my here. In my now. He provides. We have not run out of food or diapers. Consistently, as my husband and I exchanged worried glances, He provides. When we don't know where the money to pay the bills will come from, He provides. When we don't know how we will afford the next box of diapers, He provides. When we don't know, he provides. Through my here, I desire peace and am filled with joy at the magnificence of God. I am filled with joy at the story that God is writing for us to share. In my here, I am awed at the way that God fills us not just where we need, but more than we need. I am awed at the way that He works. In my here, I feel gratitude. I am thankful for His mercy and grace. I am grateful for His provision. I am grateful for the plan that He is weaving. I am grateful for the path we are on. I am grateful because we get to be a part of His story.
Thank you, Lord, for meeting me in my here because here is the only place I can be.
Thank you.
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