I have been here forever. In the midst of this season of sadness. According to the calendar its been 3.5 weeks, but depression lives in its own time warp. A Newtonian fluid of fast and slow – where you feel as though you have always been this dark, and yet surely it hasn’t already been more than three weeks since you first began to cry at the sight random daffodil blooms.
He Loved us through our fears. Through our uncertainties and doubts. Through the times that we’ve turned away and cursed at Him. Through the times we have failed to love others. He loved us through all of those things, through His own pain and exhaustion, to the end.
It feels like a roller coaster right now for everyone. Every day is another announcement, another fear, another new normal to navigate. Each moment where we think we have something figured out, where we think we can breathe, is interrupted by a precipitous fall toward the unknown.
Life is always busy. Always messy. Always chaotic. But this season is even more so for us, and we honestly didn’t plan in advance for the level we’ve been living in for the last few months. And without a plan. . . .I don’t do well. I crumble, panic, hide. I alternate between tears and rage as my frustration begins to spiral out of control and bleed into anxiety.
I will raise a hallelujah even in the darkness. Even when the chaos descends. Even if my peace gives way to my anxiety. I will raise a hallelujah.
He is with me. He's got this. I will keep singing. Hallelujah.