Composure or Lack Thereof

A few weeks ago, I had reached a point where I was frankly overwhelmed. If you’re like me, you need plans. Routine. Lists make things easier, consistency is the highlight of my week, scheduled appointments, meetings and get togethers are always met and fulfilled. I realized because we have welcomed a season of a lot of doing, I needed to stay organized. So I have a planner that matches a calendar that hangs in our kitchen. Evan always knows what’s happening each day, because I always keep it up to date, as well as right in line with my schedule.

But a few weeks ago, I ended up yelling at my husband. Not because of him, but because of a lot of stuff happening and feeling the responsibility and leadership weighing heavily on my shoulders. So I let it out. I got teared up. I lost my composure, and I let frustration just exist, yelled out what needed to get out of my head, and I let it be.

My boys were also in the van with us.

Here’s what I notice in us, ladies: an idea that we have to be composed when we feel like crap is flying. Or that we have to be composed when what is happening in our lives straight up sucks. Or the idea that we can’t be a total mess for just a little bit. Because, why should we? God is in us, is He not? So we should be able to compose ourselves.

I’m raising my hand here. You know, God is in us. But I am also not God. I am not Jesus. I do not have the ability to perfectly shrug off the devil while he taunts me with what could be in my life, or the lack of control I seem to have. I am not able to remain composed when it feels like there is too much on my shoulders.

I’m raising my hand. I’ll be the first.

Sometimes, I am a mess. I try really hard, I push really hard, I lead hard, and then it feels like the fruit isn’t there. Or I’m giving it everything I’ve got, and no one else is. Or I have a plan in my head for this life I want to live, and God just isn’t making my ideas happen. I look at my husband, and I freaking cry. Because I am human. I lose my composure. I don’t want to be that woman who is perfectly able to deal with life when it’s hitting me in the face. I want Christ in me to do that. I want Him to be my rock, fortress, foundation, and hiding place. I don’t want to pretend.

Be a mess.
Be upset.
Cry.
You are allowed.

Give yourself the grace that you’re willing to extend to everyone else. God is giving it to you, and He already knows you don’t deserve it. He does it because He loves you. Not because of your composure or lack thereof.

You with me? Can we raise our hands together in this? Not our strength, His strength.

Love you, my women. Here with you.

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