snow & overcoming

Just whiling away the time, sitting at a Chapters/Starbucks on a snowy, September, Monday morning. The roads looked treacherous, the traffic report on the radio sounded ominous and I thought to myself, this would be the perfect day to take a flex day. Grateful for that option. I was planning on stopping for a chai latte anyway and after I stepped deep into a snow bank, filling my boots with snow and cold and wet, I just settled into the warmth and the music of the coffee shop and lost my gumption to go any further. Any further on the freeway to work and any further towards the daily grind.

Lately, this battle has become a little more than I can handle on my own. Which is exactly where God wants me, I’m sure of it. I’m ashamed to admit I’m not as strong as I like to make out or like to portray. I am battle weary. I’m buckling under the weight of all that armour. The weapons of our warfare. Yes, they’re protective. They’re offensive. They’re defensive. It’s the armour of the victorious, for sure. But in some seasons, a person just wants to put down the armour and pray that someone else would fight the battle for them. The battle will not stop for a day off so when we are battle weary we need someone fighting for us. ‘Come to me all you are weary and heavy laden and I will give you rest.’ That’s where I find myself on this challenging morning. Wanting a rest. So I’m taking one. Knowing the Lord will fight for me.

Life has been immeasurably good and abundantly rewarding. No argument there. And I’ve seen many mountain tops so I know they are there, but this valley living wears me down. As I’m sure it does you. Most of the time , I am positive and upbeat and winning the battle but doesn’t mean there aren’t dark times when I can barely see in front of me. I know you know what I’m talking about.

The coffee shop is starting to fill up. People using it as an office. Some meeting with friends. Other people on their way to work. Regulars, I’m sure. People with touques and boots and scarves. More baristas arriving for work. The pastry glass is brimming with delightful treats and savoury snacks. The Chapters staff just opening the partition for access to their part of the store, bulging with magazine, books, and the most interesting giftware. I love chapters as a reading place. But in order for it to be a reading place it first has to be a writing place. Someone had to write the words in all those books. Someone had to tell their story. Do the reasearch. Take the pictures. Live the experiences or recreate them or invent them. Which is what I am doing now.

Simple, but important, things like getting my sewing machine back from service, become very real struggles. Planning an outdoor social event at work when you realize it’s going to snow that day and you still want to make it special. Stress. Studying for a safety awareness audit so you can make your company look good. Tension. A mothers concern for a son who drives to Vancouver and ends up with car trouble on the way there and a perilous drive home. Loss of control. Keeping up with house work seems the last thing on my mind. The persistent five days a week driving to the other end of town to do a job you never thought you’d do again and accepting the fact that you have no time for a life. But then you remember, this IS your life. You know the job is for ‘such a time as this’ so you keep at it. You show up each day and smile and work hard and try to be a blessing to those around you. Showing up for the caregiving aspects of life – draining. Showing up in prayer and begging the Lord to deliver your first born safely home on an icy, dark, snowy night when the car isn’t cooperating with his efforts. Showing up to drive my mom home after our weekly Sunday time together and experiencing the terrors of the snow storm myself. It was then I received the three word text from my husband ‘he is home’ . The flood gates of gratitude spilled all over my face and down the front of my sweater. I couldn’t help it. The release of a tension you didn’t even realize was there. At least not in that measure. God heard me once again and felt it appropriate to grant me my plea. So many other stresses I’m not at liberty to share. Somewhere along the journey you need to fill up again. Thus the mental health flex day.

Gratefulness still abounds. Unrealistic expectations lowered. Knowing where the safe places are. Staying in a mindset of growth and perpetual healing. Remembering the love in my life and the loves of my life. Watching the snow fall softly just outside the window. It’s not a raging, windy, angry snow. It’s just falling. At its own pace. Completely oblivious to the havoc it’s creating. It’s rather humorous when you think of it. Snow just being snow. It’s not the perfect storm. It’s cloaking the trees with warm white fluff and gracing the rooftops with a layer of purest white. Encouraging me once again to look for the beauty. He is there. He is carrying you. He is carrying me. It’s all going to be ok.