Run, Girl

“Stay in your lane.”

My friend and I have a thing. We’re always telling each other, “I love running in my lane next to you,” because more often than not, we are always running towards similar, God-driven goals, surrounded by our families, both made up of three boys a piece.

Running next to someone who cheers you on is the. best.

But, staying in your lane is hard.

When I found out I was pregnant with our new nugget, I was ready to check out. I was ready to give into cravings, nap, and allow myself the best reason ever to stop trying so hard.

You know what I did instead? I poked my head out of my lane. I started looking around, and I lost focus entirely.

There are deep waters when we start walking out in faith, and when we act like Peter and look away from God for only a moment, we quickly sink. I was sinking quickly.

Before I continue this story, let me reiterate just how important I think it is to acknowledge that falling, losing faith, getting out of our lane is okay. It happens. It’s like looking at our mess of a home and saying, “This place is a mess.” Sometimes it just is. I think it’s foolish to pretend we have to be together at all times. If that were the case, what need do I have for a Savior?

So I was sinking. I was looking at all the other moms. I was not looking forward to what people were going to offer up as a response to me having a fourth baby. I was looking at the stuff in my life and feeling like it was all wrong. Every bit of it. Who stepped out in faith and decided this was a good idea?

Oh right, that was me.

Standing in deep waters, sinking, and knowing that I was not staying in my lane was so irritating. So, as the normal human that I am, I ignored it.

I wrote last week about how I started reading the Bible twice a day and how it changed my life. You think I’m over exaggerating, and I’m good with you thinking that. But I can’t take credit for God’s redemption in my sinking state. I have to give glory to a Father who looked at me and lovingly said, “Girl, what are you doing? Just get over here. I’ve got you.”

Just get over here.

Running my race, I’ve found, means I gotta quit being concerned about how “it” all appears, and just be present and available to all my people and all my community.

It’s conflicting when you see other people living full, God-dreamed-up-lives on social media, and guys, I tried that. It doesn’t work for me.

What works for me? Down in the dirt with my sisters who I see week in and week out, sending texts to the women I love and reminding them I’m praying for them, working from a place of foundational truth, loving people with a “get to” and never a “have to”.

So I sank a little. God said, “Just get over here,” and He put me back in my lane. It isn’t detrimental to lose sight of what God gives you; rather, I’d say it’s unavoidable. But it’s all right. He’s right there. He’s looking at you, saying, “Just get over here. Come back to me. Let’s regroup. I’ve got you.”

Run, girl. Maybe I’ll be running next to you soon enough.