When I Rise

I woke up this morning at 5:45, worried. I laid in bed feeling defeated already, when this day hadn’t even started. The past week and a half I have been trying and trying again. In public, things are awesome! In the privacy of my home where chaos and tantrums ensue, I am exhausted. But it’s more than that, really. Yesterday I spent my boys’ nap time laying between them on our bed so they would sleep (colds on all fronts around here prevent good sleep), and the lies pestering me felt astronomical. How are you supposed to be able to do this with three little boys? You lost your cool so many times in the past 48 hours that I’m pretty sure the boys are now scared of you. How are you going to lug around three kids when one of them can’t walk very well and the other will be strapped in a car seat? How can you afford this? Huh? How are you gonna do this, Janelle?

This is life right now. It seems big and scary, and I am nervous about things to come, worried about the possibility of the privacy of my home becoming the public version. But it is more than that. The big HOW flashing in front of my face in big, bright lights makes me think that I’ve got to have at least something figured out. I need a plan. I need to nest until I can’t move out of exhaustion, make lists until I feel content, or push & push against the inevitable because holy cow. Life is going to hit the fan soon. And I am freaking. out.

I woke up this morning at 5:45, empty, needy, and starving for some Truth. I poured a big glass of water and sat on the couch and prayed and prayed until the longing for Jesus calmed me. Jesus, I am exhausted. I am scared. I am worried. And I want you to set all of these lies in my mind on fire so I don’t have to look at or feel them anymore. Shatter them. I want to sleep and wake believing and knowing that you are what matters. You always provide. You are enough. I want to lean even harder into your perfection, trust you even more and then once that seems enough, even more.

He is enough. There is a big HOW flashing in my face, and I don’t have a clue as to what the answers are. The anticipation waiting for us is big and exciting and joy-filled. I know that. I know that challenges are real, and they will come in full-force. But I know that He is enough. God is enough. I do worry about the day when I have to navigate a grocery store with three little ones, but I rejoice at the thought that I get to have three little ones at all. I lose my temper when disobedience is running rampant and tantrums are as common as the persistent “Why’s?” from my almost three-year-old, but I learn an abundance about the gospel when I watch how they always forgive me, over & over. I freak out when money threatens my sense of security, but man, do I want to smack that lie in the face over and over. How can we afford this? I have no idea. But I know the God who could give & take everything. And I want to pray this prayer until my voice is gone:  Make me walk along the path of your commands, for that is where my happiness is found. Psalm 119:35

I’m gonna get a little crazy and say, okay. Let the privacy of my home, with the crazy, the tantrums, the trying and failing, become what the public sees. Because why not? This is the most imperfect life I’ll live, and thank the Lord that I am perfected by grace. And how could anyone believe it if I keep it hidden under a fake smile that’s secretly pleading for a helping hand? There is greatness to come, and there is greatness today. I am a waddling pregnant woman with two little boys, and I do not have answers to all the questions I’m asking, but it’s not about that. It’s about walking in the path He commands me. That is where my happiness is. And my happiness is full of tantrums from toddlers, flashing HOW’s in my face, exhaustion, believe it or not. I’m lighting the lies on fire, shattering them so they can’t keep me from the grace that is given to me in abundance. What’s keeping you from grace? What are the lies you’re enlisting as truth? Light them on fire, friend. You aren’t defeated.

Published by Janelle Delagrange

Wife to a graphic designer, mom to three young boys, and writer of the soul.

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