Last year I swore I wasn’t going to let winter get to me. I started taking my vitamin D, ran on a regular basis and even though my eating wasn’t the best, I enjoyed life. It was a good season full of love and laughter. And then it was still winter. Responsibilities set in, the new year started and the eternal winter just wouldn’t quit. We have had erratic schedules since January and at some point I stopped taking my vitamins. Since my half marathon last month, I haven’t run at all, and to make a long story short, I am 100% out of energy.
Energy=mojo in my world and I ain’t got none.
That’s right, when Andrea is out of mojo she starts using country slang and speaking in third person.
It ain’t pretty y’all.
These things usually go downhill fast for me. I try to go to bed early, yet stay in bed each morning until the last possible minute before begrudgingly rolling out from under the covers in a huff. Things go unfinished. I fidget around in a distracted haze getting more done than I give myself credit for but feeling as if I have accomplished nothing. It goes through my whole body; physical, emotional, spiritual.
Each night I say tomorrow is a new day. Each day I try to look to the positives, loving on my boys and knowing how insanely blessed we are. I pray for friends who are in real true struggles and fighting with every ounce of strength they have. I grow frustrated with my state of unrest in the middle of absolute and uninterrupted physical comfort.
So it is with humanity. My son is in a phase of life where he demands answers to everything. At the age of five, his world is about to be turned upside down when he starts Kindergarten and he is sensing the change. He wants the blueprints and I don’t have them. Every single day I am more certain I know less than I did the day before.
Honestly, the constant interrogation has shaken me. He wants answers. So do I. There is faith and there is faith that is based in knowledge and experience. I have grown into my faith in Jesus because of a lifetime of reading and prayer and seeking. It’s an entirely different conversation when talking to a child. My own doubts are laid out before me like a ticker tape before I can even utter a word. I am sure I make no sense. He asks more questions. I feebly answer. I am exhausted. He is hungry for more.
This is where I am. I want to be used for something good. Something real and pure and true. Right now, I do many things. But these conversations with my boys are everything. I can feel their importance and I keep talking. I keep pouring out what little I have. Faith is personal for everyone, but I have never been so intricately involved in someone else’s journey. It’s heavy. It’s important.
I feel like an empty well. The Bible says we are vessels to be emptied out and filled again. Used over and over and over. This has never felt so true for me. I hope something is coming out right. I pray that my boys hear truth and that I truly am a vessel. Yet, even when I know I will fill up again, the empty still feels empty. It feels dry and cold. It feels like winter.
I know spring will come. The hardest part is waiting.