Hard

She’s asleep for the afternoon, and I sit down.

To exhale.

To contemplate.

To maybe-write.

To process, but not too much.

I don’t want to think that deeply.

If I can be honest with you, I’m less than a minute into this thing, and the tears are already streaming down my cheeks.

My head has no clue why, but my heart does.

It has been such a hard year.

Yes, in the middle of August, it’s been a hard year.

There are the typical marriage things that come up. No one’s is perfect, and mine is nowhere near. We are learning, we are growing, we are loving each other, we are trusting Him…and that’s all we can do.

It’s not bad. There are very good moments. But it’s still hard…this learning, growing, stretching, process of change that pounds and molds and chips away the bad parts of each half.

That’s how it should be.

But it’s hard.

I fight the feeling of worth. Yes, this is home. Yes, I spend my days with the most wonderful little girl.

But let’s be real for a minute…no fluff allowed.

She’s two.

And while two is exactly what she should be, it’s still hard.

It’s a daily battle of walking that fine, almost-invisible line of discipline and love, of grace and correcting. I sometimes feel like I stink at at. Especially when she looks at me, tears threatening to spill, after a time-out, and it takes everything in me to not burst into tears myself.

I suppose this is normal mommyhood.

But it’s still hard.

And being the extrovert I am, that person who thrives around social interaction, coffee, and lots of chatting and people…it’s been a lonely summer.

Part of that is me…maybe I should have called more people. But part of me wonders where exactly my place is in this community. When I think of someone as a friend, do they think the same thing?

It sounds so teenager, but it’s real. We’re women, and I think we’re all in that place from time to time.

We wonder what’s wrong with us…I wonder what’s wrong with me.

I wonder if I’ll ever feel like I belong.

That’s a hard place to be.

And if all of this wasn’t hard enough, now I get to have surgery.

I know. I know it’s not a huge deal, and it’s four little incisions and only an hour long. It’s only one night in the hospital. It’s all of those things.

And yet, it feels like God is just saying to me…How much more can you take, Mel? Huh? How much more can I dump on you?

We’re keeping it real. I KNOW that’s not how it is.

But at this very point in my life, it’s hard to feel that way.

This is hard.

And maybe hardest of all is my lack of words.

I miss writing so much.

Really writing.

Like, completely pouring out my soul, sharing all He’s doing, making you laugh (I hope!) over the hilarious happenings in our days or smile over the things that bring JOY.

Those words have escaped and been replaced by…not much.

It’s hard when something so defining seems to be so absent.

There have been whispers in these difficult moments, and though it’s hard to understand, I know He’s still near. I know He has me in this season for a purpose, and though I might not see it, I just need to keep going.

Loving on my girl.

Trying to be a good friend.

Kissing my hubby.

Living Love.

Taking each step, knowing He’s here..and that He’s already been here, too.

That heals a heart on the hard days when I feel alone.

Thanks for listening.