There are days....moments...in which we feel a weight settling on our shoulders, in our hearts. Our frustrations, as much as we've tried to avoid them, come crawling through the vents and the cracks and we breathe them in; they have laced our cups and we slowly drink them, drop by drop. Suddenly we are gripped. Intoxicated with discouragement.
We've had the sole of one too many feet tread on our backs.
We are kicking ourselves for yet another mistake.
We are exhausted from yet another item on our checklist.
We are feeling starved to hear, "Thank you."
We are weary from searching but not finding.
We are strained from listening but not hearing.
We're beginning to be done with loving and receiving nothing in return, like constantly saying hello into the phone and hearing no reply.
We are so done with loving and receiving a slap in return.
We are tired of saying the right thing.
We are tired of doing the right thing.
Discouragement is our home on fire.
Some of us can quickly find the fire escape, and leave this place. Some of us want to ignore this place, though we haven't found the exit. Some of us have resigned ourselves to sit, stay; we will be consumed with this fire.
Sometimes I like to linger just a little...I want to feel the heat on my skin, taste the soot on my tongue, know the reality of it.
One of the reasons I relate a lot to the writers of the Psalms (especially David) is because they do acknowledge being stuck in that burning home, smoldering with defeat, and they linger in that. And sometimes I just need to sit and wrestle with all of it.
But there's always a part two.
To be continued...