That's what I just asked myself anyway. It doesn't really make sense, especially as I woke up at 4am today. Beloved is off on a car purchasing expedition (we need more seats!) and isn't here to entice me to bed with a warm body. He also isn't here to wriggle around and make ME wriggle around so when I fall into bed absolutely wiped at the end of the day I don't actually move until about 4am when the sound of every muscle in my body screaming in protest wakes me up. Then there is the fact that my lovely youngest has decided 4:30-5am is a good time to ask for company. That's all he wants, company. Then there was the thunder storm that started this morning just as I finally convinced him that sleep was the better option. Both he and Erin ended up in my bed. I tossed her out as soon as the thunder was over as she kept patting me affectionately and wanting conversation. I don't converse at that hour, no matter how cute you are
Beloved has been gone two nights so far and will be back Sunday morning. The first two nights I was in bed and asleep at least an hour earlier than usual - the warm body does entice me to bed, but exhaustion did the job those nights - tonight I called Beloved and got the password to the laptop. I then found www.etsy.com A word of warning, don't start looking unless you have a bit of time up your sleeve! I am enjoying the silence and ignoring the mess, exploring the world and writing.
To be honest, I am finding things overwhelming at the moment. The lack of computer access is dispiriting. My natural writing mode is a keyboard and although I have an exercise book, I am still not writing as much and the quality is down a fair bit. It is just a different type of writing when you can't edit with a few key strokes and I am not adjusting well. The inevitable mess is discouraging too. I can't avoid the boxes at the moment, or unpack them until the study is usable. The living area is significantly smaller than our old one already and the boxes make it worse. I have less cupboard space until we can get things rearranged so my linen is stacked in plain view. Even when I am on top of things and the routine is clicking along beautifully, the dirt hides in the various nooks and crannies then leaps out and shouts "surprise!" as soon as I turn around. Quite disheartening!
I keep counting my blessings, telling myself it could be SO much worse and it WILL be worth it in the end. I keep reading the Word which is the one thing that is really pulling me through (it is hard to wallow too much in self pity when you read the week of passion or Isaiah or Psalms or...well any of it really). But if I am honest, as honest as David and Jeremiah and Job. If I trust God enough to be honest about the really sucky parts of life as well as the blessings. If I trust Him enough to be working all things to His glory and my benefit, even when I can't see it. If I believe that He doesn't need me to create false PR with a painted on grin and pat cliches. If I believe that He is the God of my reality not of a constructed fantasy. Then I can admit this.
I am tired, in spirit as well as in body. The feeling that I never quite completely ACHEIVE anything with my days is sapping my strength. This spirals as I acheive even less with my days because I am tired which makes me more tired. Some mornings it is a sheer act of will to get out of bed and get moving rather than plonk myself on the couch and switch on the TV or grab something to read - simply to escape. I am eating far too much processed sugar and I am not exercising like a should and I am generally short tempered and narky. I get cross with myself for being narky, especially as I know I would be coping so much better if I was faithful in the little things, stuck to my routines and laid off the sugar, and this knowledge serves to make me even more narky.
I know in my head that things are going to get better very soon. Jon will have weekends at home soon and be able to do things like fix the shower and the study. I will have access to my gardening tools and be able to make a start in there. The boxes aren't forever and this time has been a time of growth for me even among the narkyness and discouraging lack of self control. I will be so thankful when things are sorted and I will not take them for granted as I may have done if we had come into the perfect house with the perfect furniture and the perfect amount of storage. I know these things in the same way I know that the contractions getting closer together and more intense is a good thing and the baby will be here soon! I know it, it carries me through, but it doesn't make it easy.
A few days ago when I was opening the Word my eye was drawn to the stories of many being fed with little. 1 Kings 4:38-41 Elisha fed the hundred - and there was some left over. It is told in the Gospel of Mark, that Jesus had compassion on those who had come to hear him because they were hungry, so hungry he was afraid they would faint with hunger on the way home if he sent them away. So he fed them with a few loaves - and when everyone was full they collected basket after basket of torn bread. I am ravenous. Each time I think I will faint fron the hunger, a song or a scripture finds its way into my heart. It opens the flood gates and soon I find that I could fill basket after basket with this wonderful Bread of life. It hasn't stopped me being hungry, it hasn't stopped me being tired, it hasn't stopped me craving rest, solitude, prayer, order, peace, contentment. But I am one who was starving and is in the midst of feasting. I am not yet full, I am boyed up simply to fall again upon my meal, tearing at the bread and stuffing it in my mouth to quell the hunger pangs. I was warned in my heart that this hungry time was comming. Knowing it was comming, did not stop it. But as my heart cries out, as the gnawing in the pit of my soul hits - He is faithful.
Scriptures. In Jeremiah He calls to me.....Return to me.....I have drawn you with loving kindness...I have plans for you. In Isaiah He reminds me...He gently leads those who have young.....your sins are as the morning mist....eagle's wings. Psalms cause me to sing in a sacrafice of praise....I run in the path of your commands for you have set my heart free....Your word is a lamp to my feet....The Lord is good. And the stories are a balm to my heart. The widow whose oil and flour never ran out after she made that small loaf for Elijah, God chasing away the Philistines with thunder as the children of Israel gathered around Samuel who prayed for them, the baskets, oh those overflowing baskets, as the God we worship didn't just give what was needed to get by but gave until the recipients were overflowing. These stories, scriptures and songs have been etched on my heart, not by hours of study, but by an ever faithful God who knows my weakness. He knew I would struggle. He knew I would have these days where nothing went right. So He etched them on my heart, to lift me from the mire. To sustain me on the days when I am too tired to do much more than sigh in His general direction.
So here I am. Truthfully, tired, a little depressed, longing for times to come and struggling to find things to enjoy in the now. But I am sustained, no, more than that. I am a starving woman, but before me is set a feast. I need only taste it.