Messy Buns= Cute Messy Life= Not So Cute
Life is messy. No matter how old I get this truth becomes more evident with each passing year.
I know God creates beauty out of our ashes, but most of the time I find myself longing for the life I was created to experience. The life pictured in Genesis 1; a life of perfection, wonder, simplicity, peace, and constantly walking in perfect harmony with God. As a result of Genesis 3, we all live in a world plagued with terrorism, violence, wars, hatred, diseases, pain, loss, decay, and death.
Moving to Dallas has been a hard transition for me. There was never a time in my life that I desired or dreamed about moving to Texas. When JJ got the promotion, which sparked our move, I felt very conflicted. When JJ and I first got married, I told him I NEVER wanted to move to Texas. It wasn’t an option. Period. Usually, when I do that, God just smiles and holds in a laugh. Over time God slowly made me more and more open to the idea of moving, and lessened my aversion to Texas. When JJ got offered the job promotion, I knew it was a great opportunity for him and felt like God had a plan for us in Texas.
I am so glad that God has ignored the items I have stamped and declared “unmovable” because I would have missed out on the biggest blessings of my life. However, the struggle is still very real. I have been very open in this blog about my struggle with OCD, panic attacks, and depression. Moving to a new place where you have no family or established friendships makes my daily fight tiring, draining, and disheartening. I’m scared to be in a new city. I’m sad to be apart from my family and friends. I miss the comfort of not needing my phone to get to the local grocery store or mall. As much as I am open about my mental health condition, it doesn’t make it easier to talk about, or share with people I am meeting for the first time. Living in fear of being defined by your imperfections or abnormalities hurts, and makes you feel like you haven’t really been invited to the party. If only they knew the real you, you might not have gotten an invitation. It is also hard asking for prayer about it because I feel like I am a disappointment to prayer warriors and their prayer journals. The journal is just sitting there waiting, waiting to have my entry marked off as answered. As I am waiting for the day that I can wake up and not be bombarded by the most absurd fears, and not feel controlled by my need to be in control.
Yet, as I have been going through the She Reads Truth Advent devotional plan, I am seeing how much Jesus truly loves me. God is redeeming the condition of my mind, heart, and spirit more than I can tangibly see and measure at this time. It was never the cry of my heart to be desperate for God. I didn’t want to need God. I just wanted to want Him. The one gift my anxiety disorder has given me is it has shown me that God loves me no matter what, and that He isn’t afraid that I desperately need Him. His love isn’t shallow or based in my abilities. He is the embodiment of love. Any love I offer is a cheap imitation of the real thing: God. Even when I have nothing to offer Him, but empty hands and a broken spirit, I know He doesn’t despise me (Psalm 51:17). His love is for me. As hard as it is to be in a new place and away from the familiar, it is a comfort to know that God will never leave my side.